


The Reluctant Treasure Hunter, or The Ransom of Nancy Drew

by CeliaEquus



Category: Nancy Drew (Video Games)
Genre: Abduction, Cameos, Canon-Typical Violence, Coercion, Crimes & Criminals, F/M, Historical References, MID Speculation, Marriage Proposal, Organized Crime, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References and Spoilers for Every Game, Tags May Change, Treasure Hunting, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-09-23 18:29:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 81,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9670844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeliaEquus/pseuds/CeliaEquus
Summary: While turning back from Salem, after Deirdre changes her mind about asking for help on a case, Nancy is kidnapped right from her car by dangerous criminals.  They may want revenge, but they also want gold.  With Nancy's experience in treasure-finding, she should be able to help.But the treasure is only a legend, and it's not only her life on the line.  Two surprise hostages have to help Nancy decode 16th century clues to find Cibola, one of the fabled Seven Cities of Gold.  But there's another treasure waiting to be found.Back in Salem, Deirdre is struggling to help her friend Mei, while dealing with the guilt over dating Nancy's ex and also being the reason for Nancy being left vulnerable.  And back in River Heights, Carson rallies amateur and professional detectives alike in an effort to track down the missing people.





	1. Inciting Incidents

_Dear Hannah,_

_I know you’ll be back from the shops in an hour, but I’ll be gone by then. I’m headed for Salem, Massachusetts. Deirdre Shannon – of_ all _people – has called me for help. The last time she needed my help was for her grades; but now a friend of hers is in danger._

_Apparently there was a fire in Hathorne House, an old building dating back to the Salem Witch Trials. Deidre’s friend Mei Parris has been accused not only of arson – sound familiar? – but witchcraft._

_You know me. When someone says there’s something supernatural going on, I can’t help proving them wrong. I’m sure this won’t take long, and it’ll give me a chance to catch up with Ned. I’m glad we stayed friends after the break-up, and in his last message he said he had news for me. If he calls, tell him I’ll call him after the case is over._

_Love,_

_Nancy._

 

Deirdre pursed her lips, trying to block out the taunts of her friends as she looked up sources for their latest assignment. Arson. It was striking a little too close to home. She remembered Nancy being framed by Brenda Carlton, sure, but that wasn’t what hurt so much.

Mei wasn’t in prison, which was a start. But she didn’t have an alibi, and the only witness – the boy who’d been trapped in the house – was pointing the finger straight at her. It was _stupid_ , and Deirdre told that to everyone who’d listen, and even some who wouldn’t.

But because she’d been studying up on arson – for the assignment _her professor_ had set – and because she knew Mei, Deirdre was now a suspect. So she’d done the only thing she could think of: she called Nancy Drew.

It made perfect sense! Sure, Ned was sceptical, but Deirdre was desperate. Of all the people she knew, Nancy had the most experience with solving mysteries, especially debunking crimes supposedly committed by ghosts and creepy monsters. That was the kind of person Deirdre needed right now.

And sure, if she got to rub it in Nancy’s face that Ned was now dating Deirdre, that was just an added bonus.

But now… now her college friends – some friends _they_ were – were making fun of her for needing to call in an amateur. Never mind that Nancy was the best amateur detective available, they thought it was crazy that Deirdre wasn’t trying to solve the mystery herself. Weren’t they all studying criminology?

Deirdre browsed through the old texts she’d exchanged with Nancy back when she started this stupid assignment. Nancy had told Deirdre everything she’d learnt about arson while trying to free herself from jail…

Hang on. Nancy had freed _herself_ from jail even though she was under arrest and the only real suspect the police had. Why _couldn’t_ Deirdre do the same? She could be just as good as Nancy Drew. And if she proved that, maybe her parents would shut up about her for five damn minutes. Maybe they could finally be proud of Deirdre, and not keep comparing her to the teen wonder.

Deirdre was dialling the number before she could think it through. There were four rings before Nancy picked up.

“Deirdre? Is there a problem? Has something worse happened?”

“Hi, Nancy, how are you? I’m fine, thanks.”

Nancy sighed. Rude.

“Hello, Deirdre. From your tone, I assume this isn’t an emergency?”

“You assume correctly,” Deirdre said. “I’ve thought it over, and I’d… prefer to tackle this myself. I’d still like… you know… maybe a hint sometimes. But no one will ever take me seriously if I just keep getting help from other people.”

“Of course,” Nancy said warmly. Ugh. Sincerity. “I’m happy to help in any way I can. Listen, it took me a couple of hours to drive this far. If you need me in that time, maybe send a message instead. Or if it’s an emergency, call Ned. He’s closer to Salem than I am.” There was a loud honk in the background. “Don’t worry, he wasn’t honking at me. I’m pulled over at the side. A car just randomly slowed down. No, it’s going again.”

“Great,” Deirdre said, already bored. “Is that all?”

“It’s slowed down again. Some kind of van… oh. You mean the call. It’s still light enough for me to head back to River Heights, so that’s what I’ll do. But if you change your mind, I’m only a call away. You have my home phone number, right?”

“Yes. But tell me more about the van, I’m _super_ interested.”

“It’s blue, there’s faded writing on the side… that was sarcasm, wasn’t it?”

“Goodbye, Nancy. Thanks for… understanding. I guess.”

“Anytime, Deirdre. I owe you for your help with that case in Colorado.”

Technically it was quid pro quo at the time, but having Nancy Drew feeling indebted to Deirdre was a bit of a power kick. She hung up, set her phone back down, and returned to her assignment. She could do this.

She _could_.

 

Nancy placed her phone down beside her bag again. She’d learnt her lesson after being run off the road in Ireland. Fiona Malloy hadn’t meant to do it, and there was no real harm done. And this road was far from empty.

She turned on her left indicator, and checked to see whether there were any vehicles coming. The van she’d mentioned to Deirdre had pulled in up ahead, and two men emerged from it. They waved their arms at her, and ran towards her car. Nancy checked the locks, and her hand hovered above her phone. Just because it was a busy road didn’t mean that the street lights were powerful, and it was already dusk. One man slowed to a jog, and stopped beside her door. He looked distressed, and gestured frantically for her to lower her window.

Reluctantly, Nancy cranked the window down. She’d turned off the engine before answering her phone, and was regretting that now.

“Can I help you?” she asked through the three-inch crack between the window and the top of the door.

“Please,” the man said. “We are… how you say… foreigners? We need help. A problem with our car.” He gestured to the van, as if Nancy could miss it. “You have a number for help, yes? A…” He made another gesture, like a game of tug-of-war. “To pull?”

“A tow truck?”

“Yes, miss.”

“Not for this area. I’m only passing through. Uh, I’m on my way elsewhere.”

“You know a number, yes?”

“I’m not from here. I was just headed home. But if you want, I can give you the number for directory inquiries? They can give you a number for a towing service.”

The man cupped a hand around his ear, and leaned closer.

“A number, yes?” he said, nodding. Nancy peered at him suspiciously.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you,” she said, loudly and clearly.

There was a loud knock against the passenger side window, and her head swivelled that way. Another man was looking in that side, and Nancy squinted, trying to work out why he was familiar to her. His eyes were dark and hard, and the scruff around his jaw-line was thick. And his hair looked bare, like something else should’ve been on… no, _in_ it. Like leaves…

“Thanos!” she gasped.

“And guess who?” the first man said. Nancy looked back, and a fake, bushy moustache was removed. The sharp cheekbones… the wicked gleam in his eyes… the straight, dark hair peeking out beneath his hat…

Nancy opened her mouth to guess, and instead choked on something he sprayed directly into the car. She coughed, and her mind began to feel fuzzy.

_“Sit down if you don’t want to wake up with a concussion.”_

_But I’m already sitting, Zoe_ , Nancy thought. She registered a clicking sound, the door swinging open, the pressure of her seatbelt disappearing, and arms grasping her. She tried to reach for her phone, tried to grab hold of the steering wheel, but the weakness which had overtaken her brain spread quickly through her limbs. She blinked blearily up at the man hauling her from the front seat.

“Darcy?” she said. “Didn’t you drown?”

“It’s _Dwayne_ , you imbecile—”

Nancy decided that was the best moment to lose consciousness.

 

Hannah was clearing up after dinner, listening to Carson rambling on about a case he was handling. After clearing Alexei Markovic’s name, he’d worked with the man going through old cases – in between worrying about Nancy – to see if the police had missed anything in cases Alexei might’ve been able to solve. Right now Carson was trying to get a man out of jail who’d been wrongly convicted of grand theft. The case had taken place one of the times Kate had been summoned to Scotland by Cathedral, and Carson and Nancy had gone with her. It might not have changed anything, but Carson still felt guilty any time an innocent person went to jail. Any miscarriage of justice, for that matter. As a lawyer, he wished the law could do better.

“I’ll get the phone,” he said, noticing the soap dripping from Hannah’s hands. He strode into the living room and picked up the receiver. “Drew residence, Carson Drew speaking.”

“Carson? It’s Chief McGinnis. We just got a call at the station. Your phone’s turned off?”

“House rules,” Carson said. “When work is over, the phone goes off. Nancy’s just gone on to a new case, but she can’t have gotten into trouble this quickly, not even… _Why are you calling_?”

The chief cleared his throat, and worry swelled up inside Carson. Hannah was drying her hands, worried eyes on him.

“Since there’s a River Heights sticker on her car, they called us when they couldn’t get you on your cell,” McGinnis said.

“Oh God. What’s happened to her?”

“It wasn’t an accident. As far as they know, she’s not hurt.”

“What do you mean, ‘as far as they know’?” Carson demanded.

“Nancy’s car was found by the side of the road. Most of the traffic is pretty fast along there, just coming off the highway. She wasn’t _in_ the car, Carson. There were fresh scratches on the driver’s side car lock, but no signs of a struggle. A bitter smell in the air, so it’s possible she was gassed, since the window was open. Her purse, her phone, everything seemed to be there. It’s just Nancy who’s missing.”

“They were after her,” Carson said, dazed, and he sank onto the sofa. Hannah sat in the armchair opposite him, her hands clasped together.

“Do you have any idea who might have done this?” McGinnis asked.

Carson laughed bitterly.

“Don’t you know how many enemies she’s made?” he said. “It could be anyone she’s put behind bars, or friends or relatives of anyone she’s put behind bars.”

“Her last call was to Deirdre Shannon. We’ll be calling her next. Can you tell us why she wasn’t in River Heights?”

“H-Hannah, can you get the note from Nancy?” Carson requested. Hannah picked it up from the mantel over the fireplace, and handed it over. “She said she was going to Salem. A case. A young woman has been framed for arson, a friend of Deirdre Shannon. Nancy was going to help…” He swallowed. “Why was she at the side of the road?”

“It’s around the time the phone call to Shannon ended. Let’s hope she can enlighten us. I’ll call you back after we’ve talked to her.”

“Thanks,” Carson said, and hung up.

“What happened?” Hannah asked, her voice trembling.

“Nancy’s been kidnapped.”

 

Deirdre pressed the end call button, and stared at her unfinished assignment, numb with the shock. A lump grew in her throat, and she rushed to the fridge in her dorm room to grab a bottle of water. She downed a quarter of it quickly, and wiped her mouth dry after she recapped the bottle. Something sat in her stomach like lead, but she didn’t want to analyse it. She… she needed to call someone. Who?

The first person who leapt to her mind was the most obvious choice, and he’d definitely want to know that Nancy was missing. But should Deirdre be the one to tell him? And what if he realised that he’d never really let go of his feelings for Nancy if he knew that she was in danger right now? Usually Ned didn’t know about the danger Nancy was in until the case was over. This was different.

And… what if he blamed Deirdre?

But she had to think of Ned’s feelings. That was the kind of things girlfriends were supposed to do, and he was sweet enough to deserve it. So she dialled his number, knowing it by heart, and tried to work out how she was going to break the news.

“Deirdre, hi,” he said. “Aren’t you supposed to be working on an assignment?”

“Ned…”

“What is it?”

She hiccuped, and covered her mouth. It passed quickly, but it was enough for Ned to sound more frantic when he asked what was wrong.

“I just… I just had a call from home,” she said. “River Heights.”

“Has something happened to one of your parents?” Ned asked.

“N-no. I’d asked Nancy to help Mei. Remember I told you about—?”

“Yes, I remember. Has something worse happened?”

Deirdre remembered that Nancy had asked that exact same question.

“No,” she said. “I mean, not to Mei. Not yet. It’s Nancy. She… she’d pulled over because I called her, and before she could t-turn around, she was abducted. Straight from her car.”

“Nancy’s gone?”

“She was targeted. Her stuff wasn’t taken, her car was left alone. They just wanted her, Ned. And it could be _anyone_ she’s annoyed over the years. God knows there are a lot of them.”

“Oh my God. Are you okay? Why did they call you?” he said.

“Because I was the last call to her phone. Ned, she would’ve still been driving if I hadn’t called her!” Deirdre bit her bottom lip, and the hand holding her cell phone began to shake uncontrollably.

“Hey, wait,” Ned said. There was a strain in his voice. “If whoever kidnapped her tried to run her off the road instead, she could’ve ended up injured. _Was_ she hurt?”

“No signs of a struggle, but they’ll be taking her car in for testing.” Deirdre rubbed her eyes. “Ned, they questioned me for an _hour_. Wanted every detail of our phone call. I didn’t think to record it. I didn’t even _know_ I’d have to record it! They’re gonna try to get something from her phone, but I don’t… I can’t… this just _feels_ like it’s my fault.”

“It’s not, Deirdre. If someone was determined to do this, they would’ve found another way to do it. If anything else, you may’ve made it a lot less painful for Nancy in the long run.”

“How can you be so _calm_? You used to date her! For _years_!”

“Because I know Nancy,” he said calmly. “It’s okay, Deirdre. She gets herself into these kinds of situations, and gets herself out of them. Until we have a clearer idea of who might’ve taken her, I’m not gonna get myself worked up. Especially if there’s a chance she’d not injured. Nancy’s resourceful. Unless the kidnappers are even more resourceful than her, she’ll get out in no time. I think the longest time she’s been held captive was probably about an hour or two.”

“Ned, it’s been _three_ hours already,” she said.

“Deirdre, you have to keep a cool head. Why did you call Nancy?”

“T-to call her off this case. I want to solve it myself.”

“Then Mei will need you to be thinking clearly. Okay?”

Deirdre realised this was part of the reason Nancy and Ned were together for a long time. He kept his cool in a crisis, just what every crime-solver needed in a partner.

“Thanks,” she said softly. “I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

“Okay. And don’t worry. I’m sure by tomorrow morning we’ll have news that Nancy’s fine, and has cracked a case none of us even knew about.”


	2. Hostage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy is definitely in trouble, but at least she's not alone. Whether or not that's a good thing remains to be seen.
> 
> (There's a history dump in this, but it's relevant to the story, and it's in dialogue, so it's broken up with a few interruptions. Worth reading, I promise, and in keeping with the Nancy Drew games.)

Nancy’s head hit something hard. Not the ideal way to wake up. She preferred a comfortable bed, a chirpy alarm, and preferably no nightmares. She couldn’t even wish herself a good morning, for two very good reasons. One, she was in complete darkness, and had no idea whether or not it was morning. Two, there was something tied around her mouth.

After a moment, Nancy realised that she wasn’t on a _very_ hard surface. It was unforgiving, but felt like, well, felt. A bit scratchy, but at least it wasn’t bare concrete or metal. So things could be worse.

Her memories began to surface. She’d been in her car, at the side of the road. A phone call, that’s right. About the case in Salem. Then there’d been a man at her window. A fake moustache. Dwayne Powers. Not-so-drowned after all. And at the other window was Thanos Ganas. Was he working with Dwayne? Clearly. Was the Greek mafia aware of it? Maybe. Someone had to have supplied whatever knockout gas was sprayed at her. As an ex-con, Dwayne would find it hard to get a car, Nancy was sure. After all, he’d threatened the life of Rick Arlen, which was enough to rile many rabid fans.

Nancy knew that both men were dangerous. Dwayne was capable of making a homemade bomb from a set of written instructions, and had kidnapped Bess to force Nancy to find a treasure map. Thanos, on the other hand, was muscle. He was used to someone else leading. But he could probably break Nancy’s arm without breaking a sweat. She could still feel the echoes of terror when she’d realised that he’d escaped the trap she’d caught him in.

She rewound her thoughts. The map. It hadn’t been on the boat with Dwayne. If he’d used her once to find the map to Cibola, what if he’d kidnapped her to find Cibola _using_ the map? No, that was crazy. She’d done some research after that, and found that scientists and archaeologists had declared that it was simply a legend, built up by the Spanish conquistadors out of hope, and the native Americans… either as a joke, or due to miscommunication. Nancy liked to think they were trolling the conquistadors. It served them right for wanting to take what wasn’t theirs, with no intention of returning it. At least Nancy returned what she ‘borrowed’ during a case.

Minutes passed. Nancy lost count out of sheer boredom. This wasn’t the first time she’d been kidnapped, but it was the first time she’d been awake before arriving at the destination. Maybe she could fight back, or at least escape? She’d earned herself a bit of a reputation as a Houdini when it came to dungeons. Of course, she usually had some key or other to escaping, which she didn’t this time. Her things had probably been left in the car, so she wouldn’t even have a nail file or a hairpin.

And her hands were tied behind her back. Nancy tried to loosen the bonds, but whatever cloth rope was around them, or whatever knot had been used, the binding simply wouldn’t budge. Her legs were also tied together, to her consternation. But she wasn’t blindfolded. She allowed her eyes to adjust to the dark, so that she could assess her surroundings.

She was clearly in the trunk of a car. The fuzzy felt beneath her cheek confirmed what the bumps in the road and rumble of the engine betrayed. If she craned her head, she could just make out the lock. But the email Bess had shown her once had lied; there was no way to kick out the tail lights and signal for help.

Honestly, her one hope was that someone had seen the number plate of the van, that the sky had still been light enough for that. Someone had to have witnessed the abduction, which meant that no time would be wasted in searching for her.

Good. That… that was a good hope to have. Considering that they must have changed vehicles at some point in the journey, for Nancy to be in a car instead of a van, she had to have some kind of hope.

Eventually the car pulled to a stop, and not at a crossing. The engine died down, and there were voices. She gathered herself together, ready to strike out with her legs, her head, whatever would be closest to whoever tried to extract her from the trunk. She had her legs already reared up when the lid opened, and she found herself face-to-face with a gun. At a much closer range than when Detective Beech threatened her to hand over Jake Rogers’s diary. Slowly, she lowered her legs.

“Good girl,” Thanos said. He stepped back, and Dwayne approached from the other side. He scooped Nancy up with way more strength than she expected from the former agent/actor. That time in prison must have been beneficial.

“Dump it in the ocean,” Dwayne said. “We don’t want them tracing us here.”

Nancy was aware of someone else moving to the front of the car. Thanos walked beside her, gun always at the ready. The car started up again, and soon after there was a resounding splash as it fell into the sea. But she didn’t think about that, because she was currently staring at a large shipping vessel with Greek lettering on the side, just visible in the lights on deck. That answered the question about whether Thanos’s connections were helping him.

Dwayne walked up the gang plank, wobbling a little as the ship bobbed with the tide and made him unsteady. Nancy tensed, convinced that she was about to topple over into the water. But Dwayne regained his footing, and Nancy glanced back to see Thanos’s hand on his shoulder, propelling him forward. They were soon on board, and Nancy shivered as the sea breeze swept around her legs.

“You’d be surprised what people build into a ship,” Dwayne said conversationally, carrying her along the deck and towards a door. Nancy tried to reply that she wouldn’t, not after the Heerlijkheid. But she was still gagged, and could only mumble unintelligibly. “We’ve got a special place just for you.”

As long as it wasn’t the hold, Nancy probably wouldn’t complain. But what she wouldn’t give to be elsewhere right now.

Eventually a stranger – probably a member of the crew – had to help Dwayne carry Nancy down a twisting flight of stairs to a room below deck. There were a few doors, three or four at a glance, and Nancy was hastily bundled into one of the rooms. It was tiny, as small as the bunkroom at the Technology of Tomorrow Today lab. There was a tiny cot in one corner, a sink and a toilet. The bed had a thin sheet and a flat pillow, and there was toilet paper, a towel, and a hand towel. A tiny bar of soap rested on a soap holder above the sink. Anything that wasn’t tied down would be useless against these people.

“Wait here,” Dwayne said, leaving her standing in the middle of the room.

Nancy looked pointedly at her legs. Dwayne chuckled, and removed the gag. After a thought, he undid the knot on her legs, and then her hands, before shutting the door firmly behind him. Nancy breathed out in a relief, and shuffled her hands until the cloth fell away. She bent over and unbound her legs, and then stretched her legs and arms until the stiffness dissipated.

“Who have they brought now?” a bored, British voice asked loudly. Nancy leapt to the door, and pressed her nose between the bars in the tiny window, which was probably only for ventilation.

“Who’s there?” she asked. “I’m not the only one?”

There was a pause, and for a second Nancy wondered whether she’d just been hearing things.

“I know your voice,” he said. “Hospital… the Pacal…”

“Henrik van der Hune?” she exclaimed.

“Nancy?” A face appeared at one of the doors opposite. “Nancy Drew? Oh my God, they got you, too.”

“Too? Is there someone else here?”

“Next door to me, though she can sleep through anything, it seems,” he said, and he disappeared briefly to thump the wall. “Wake up, Hotchkiss!”

“Beatrice Hotchkiss?” Nancy said. “She’s here?”

“Yes,” Henrik said, and he reappeared at the window. “What on Earth are you doing here, Nancy?”

“I have no idea,” she said. “I mean, it could have something to do with something which happened in New York… and the Bahamas… but that doesn’t explain why you’re here. And it could just be revenge. Both Thanos and Dwayne have reason to want revenge against me.”

Henrik smiled. “You’ve put them both in jail, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but it didn’t last. Thanos didn’t even make it a night. He has some connections to… I don’t know whether I can even tell you.”

“Oh, I can guess,” Henrik said. “What happened in New York and the Bahamas?”

“More the Bahamas,” Nancy said. “Dwayne kidnapped one of my best friends and used her to force me to find a map leading to Cibola. Have you heard of it?”

“One of the fabled cities of gold?” he asked. “Rumoured to be in the region of New Mexico, but when Francisco Coronado was led to its supposed location in fifteen-forty, there was no city of gold. The friar who led the expedition had either lied or exaggerated in his initial report, or the Spanish were so desperate to find gold that they decided he was being modest. Without reading the original manuscript, I couldn’t know for sure.”

“A man named El Toro made a map suggesting where to find Cibola,” Nancy said, “and that’s what I found. Looked like it was west of California, but I didn’t get to hold onto it for long, and I couldn’t take a picture of it.”

“No one has told us why we’ve been brought here,” Henrik said. “But among the people who were settled in Mexico before the Spanish were the Aztecs, and their culture spread its influence as people travelled. My own knowledge is spread further than the Maya. Remember, I speak and read Nahuatl, among other languages.”

“Yes… yes, I remember that! You had amnesia, and I had to ask Alejandro del Rio to translate the Nahuatl for snake.”

“Coatl,” he said.

“That’s right!”

“Who’s there?” A redhead peeked between the bars of the room next to Henrik. “I recognise you. Cheese factory, wasn’t it? Or an internet service?”

“No,” Nancy said patiently. “Wisconsin. I found Marie Antoinette’s journal, and you translated it for me.”

“Ah! Mandy, of course. You called me about the crystal skull and Nefertari.”

“Yes.”

“Eric, this young lady has a habit of discovering the most interesting mysteries,” Hotchkiss said.

“It’s Henrik, and I’m becoming increasingly aware of that,” Henrik said.

“How long have you two been here?” Nancy asked.

“A few days,” Henrik replied. “I was on my way to a conference on ancient American artefacts. I was at the airport, had checked in my luggage, when someone requested me at the front desk. I remember very little after that.”

“I was drugged in my car,” Nancy said. “I’d pulled over to answer a phone call, and someone asked for help. It was Dwayne in disguise, and he gassed me through the crack in the window. What about you, Professor Hotchkiss?”

“I had just left a library after borrowing reference material for my newest project,” Hotchkiss said. “Another fascinating, enigmatic woman from history. I was asked to sign my book about Marie’s journal. Ah, to take advantage of a poor old woman when she is most vulnerable! They bundled me into a car like I was a rag doll. Poor Derek has been my only company these past two days.”

“It feels like the ship is taking off now,” Henrik said. The engines throbbed through the vessel, and the bobbing motions reduced as they smoothly pulled away from the abandoned harbour. “It seems you were the last one they were waiting on.”

“Sorry I took so long to be kidnapped,” Nancy said.

“Not at all, Nadine,” Hotchkiss said, missing the sarcasm. Henrik rolled his eyes.

“Who have you been researching, Professor Hotchkiss?” Nancy asked.

“Ah! I have been looking into the life of Moctezuma the Second’s eldest daughter. Moctezuma – or Montezuma – the second was killed in fifteen-twenty by the Spanish, most likely on the orders of Hernán Cortés. His eldest child was Tecuichpoch Ixcaxochitzin, and was the last Aztec princess. By the time she was twelve, she had been married three times, once to her uncle. After becoming a widow for the third time, she was instructed in Catholicism and converted, and was baptised Isabel.”

“That’s much easier to say,” Nancy said.

“And much faster to type,” Hotchkiss agreed. “She was married to a Spaniard on the orders of Cortés, and granted an encomienda. In fact, she was granted the entire city of Tacuba in Mexico. But her fourth husband died soon, when she was barely seventeen years old. Doña Isabel became pregnant by Cortés, and he married her off to another of his allies. She was widowed again in the early fifteen-thirties, and was married for a sixth and last time. By the time of her death, she had borne several children, and she ensured that her daughters inherited from her.”

“That was nice of her,” Nancy said, and mentally berated herself for the inane comment. But Hotchkiss didn’t seem to notice.

“Her will, ah, now that was one of the most fascinating aspects. She insisted that her slaves be set free, left twenty percent of her estate to the church, and instructed that her debts be paid, including wages to her servants. She left her jewellery to her daughters, and even included her illegitimate child in her will. There were some legal disputes, of course, but they were settled satisfactorily.” She sighed. “I hope the library recovers the books I borrowed. I believe I dropped them when those miscreants laid hands on me. I gave one of them a black eye.”

“Well done,” Henrik said.

“Thank you, Henry.”

“Close.”

“So you both have knowledge of the Aztecs,” Nancy said. They replied in the affirmative. “But what does that have to do with Cibola?”

“Maybe Dwayne read that the Seven Cities of Gold really were just legends, and has decided to search for something else?” Henrik said. “There are plenty of lost treasures, many rumoured to be in the regions of Arizona and New Mexico.”

“But I haven’t been searching _New_ Mexico,” Hotchkiss said, puzzled.

“Maybe the Greek mafia doesn’t know the difference,” Nancy muttered. “I still feel woozy from whatever they sprayed, and a ride in the back of a car didn’t help. I think I’m gonna rest for awhile, until they come get me.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Henrik said.

“I didn’t hear that either of you had gone missing.”

“My colleagues probably think I’m on a research bender, although Charleena checks in each day,” Hotchkiss said. “But if _she’s_ on a research bender as well, her assistant will do that for her, and won’t think anything of me not picking up the phone.”

“The conference wasn’t due to start until today,” Henrik said. “As one of the speakers, I’ll be missed by now. Whether anyone will connect our disappearances, however…”

“If my friends get on to it, they’ll figure it out,” Nancy said. “What we have to do is see if there’s some way out of here. When we know what their plans are, that’ll be easier.”

“Nancy, even if we managed to sneak out of here successfully, we’d have to lower one of the lifeboats without being detected, and row away undetected, _and_ have a compass so we don’t lose our way, _and_ trust that no one will check on us too soon and have a head start in finding us.” Nancy’s shoulders slumped, and he smiled. “I’m not trying to discourage you. I’m just pointing out the difficulties. This may be a situation where we have to wait until we’re on land.”

“If they’re not looking for treasure underwater, or on the ship,” Nancy said.

“Who hides treasure on a ship?” Hotchkiss said, and she laughed, before it turned to a coughing fit. “I hope they bring lunch soon. I’m parched.”

“Some people hide clues to finding treasure on a ship,” Nancy replied. “But this ship is too new for that.”

“Yes,” Henrik said. “Who knows who may be funding this expedition?”

“A corrupt corporate executive!” Hotchkiss suggested excitedly. “Not terribly romantic, but it’s hard to find anything romantic when you’ve been deprived of the facilities to brush your teeth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Indeed.
> 
> No idea how frequent the chapters will be. Until the end of February, I’m out a couple of times a week doing paid work at archives. It’s kept cold all year round, which is delightful when Australia is going through this heat wave. Hasn’t been too bad where I am, not compared to some of the summers I’ve known, but it’s been bloody horrible at night. Oh well. Air-con and fans.
> 
> In other words, I’m busier than usual, juggling one or two books that I’m writing at the moment, and there’s another of mine which I have to edit. Story ideas are hard to concentrate on in the heat, and I haven’t been able to go to the place where I usually volunteer, a school library, which might actually have information I need for this story, not to mention one of the books I’m writing. I have to rely on other sources, including the city council libraries.
> 
> I’ll stop complaining now. I hope you’re all enjoying the story, those few actually bothering to read this. We’ll get to Salem and River Heights soon. Next chapter, if I can.


	3. Back in River Heights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carson is assembling a team of superheroes... uh, a team of civilians to help find Nancy. Even though it hasn't been long since the abduction, they're all worried. But everyone is willing to drop everything to save Nancy.
> 
> Heck, Joe Hardy is even willing to buy books.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I’m making it so that the games have taken place over a couple of years, with the exception of the Dossiers (only played those the once), SCK 2 takes place when SCK 1 did, and CLK… well, you’ll see.

While Hannah absorbed what Carson had told her, he pulled out his phone and dialled a number he knew by heart.

“Alexei?” he said. “It’s Carson.”

“Hey, Carson. How are you? How’s Nancy, and Hannah?”

“Two of us are fine. But Nancy’s been kidnapped.”

“What?!”

“I just got off the phone with Chief McGinnis. Can you help?”

“I’ll be right over,” Alexei said, and he hung up.

“We have to tell the girls,” Hannah mumbled.

“The girls?” Carson said.

“Bess and George.”

“Oh.” His face fell. “I’ll call the Faynes, you call the Marvins.”

They both informed the girls’ parents of Nancy’s disappearance, and said that George and Bess were both welcome to come over and talk. Carson fiddled with his phone, and glanced at Hannah.

“I’m gonna call Fenton Hardy,” he said. “Can you call Ned? He’d want to know.”

“Of course,” Hannah said. Carson took his call into another room.

“This is Fenton Hardy.”

“Fenton, it’s Carson. Carson Drew.”

“I know that tone of voice,” Fenton said. “What’s wrong?”

“Nancy’s gone missing. She was taken straight out of her car. Are the boys with you?”

“They’re wrapping up a case in Canada at the moment,” Fenton replied. “But I can tell them to go directly to River Heights. Is there anything I can do?”

“Yes. Could you get in touch with Chief McGinnis, let him know I want you and the boys involved as much as possible?”

“Of course,” Fenton said. “I’ll let my contacts know that this is priority. Don’t worry, Carson. We’ll get her back. Nancy’s resourceful. It wouldn’t surprise me if she was back by tomorrow. But… just in case, try to work out who might’ve done this. You know about her past cases better than I do. See if she kept any records. If this has anything to do with revenge, we need to know which of her enemies are behind bars, and which ones aren’t.”

“We’ll get right onto that,” Carson said. “I keep all the letters she writes, and so does Hannah, but there has to be something more. Fenton?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“Not a problem, Carson. You and Nancy would do the same for us.”

 

Bess and George arrived at the Drew house at the same time, and the first thing they did was embrace each other. Bess was already in tears, and George was fighting not to cry as she hugged her cousin. They ventured inside, their parents right behind them, and went straight through to the living room. Hannah had the dog Togo in her lap, and she was scratching him behind the ears. He was subdued, giving out a soft whimper every few seconds, and looked mournfully at the girls.

“Have you had dinner yet?” Mrs. Fayne asked. Hannah nodded.

“I was in the middle of the dishes when the phone rang,” she said. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were stained with tears.

“Would you like tea?” Mrs. Marvin said. Hannah shook her head.

“Okay, I’ve found all of her case files!” Carson called from upstairs. “She kept paper records. There are a few boxes—”

“We’re coming!” Mr. Marvin replied. He and Mr. Fayne hurried up the stairs, and Mrs. Marvin started to brew tea, just in case, and Mrs. Fayne put away the dishes.

“Alexei Markovic is coming `round to help out,” Hannah said. “Can someone keep an eye out for him?”

“We will,” George said. “Hey, has anyone told Ned yet?”

“He already knew. Deidre Shannon heard it from the police, and she told him.”

“Nice to know she’s good for _something_ ,” Bess muttered. George led her to the front door, and they waited. Soon a silver-blue car pulled up out front, and Alexei jumped out. He jogged around the car and up the lawn.

“Any news yet?” he asked.

“Nothing so far,” George said. Bess eyed Alexei warily. She hated going into his antique store, ever since the time she broke that one, musty old vase, which was completely by accident. He shouldn’t have had it so close to the door! But they all had to unite to find Nancy, so she just kept silent while George ushered the former detective into the Drew house. Carson and their fathers were carrying down four large cardboard boxes, and Alexei stepped forward to take one of them.

“Thanks for coming,” Carson said.

“You never need to ask,” Alexei replied. “What are these?”

“Details of all of Nancy’s cases to date. I don’t know whether they’re all in order—”

Bess’s phone started ringing.

“Shoot!” she said. “Sorry. I’ll take it over here.” She looked at the screen. “It’s Frank and Joe.”

While everyone else settled in the living room, fetching more chairs from the dining table, George and Bess crowded around Bess’s cell phone.

“Hi,” Bess said, and then burst into tears again. George rubbed her upper back.

“Sorry, we’re still in shock,” she said.

“Yeah, Frank hasn’t said a word,” Joe told them. “He just keeps looking… blank. He’s not even yelling at me for saying that he looks blank. Yeah, it’s not good. Do the police have any clues, any suspects yet?”

“It’s hard to know,” George said. “Mr. Drew’s the only one who’s talked to them, and I don’t think they have much. They talked to Deirdre, too.”

“Deirdre Shannon?”

“Yeah. Nancy was on her way to help Deidre with a case, so I guess the call was about that. Nancy was by the side of the road, and she was just… just taken. Straight out of her car.”

“Will you help?” Bess asked, her voice small.

“Well, of _course_ we will. We’ve given everything we know to the local police here, so they can finish sorting it out, and Frank’s… leaving everything to me, actually. I just booked tickets. The weather’s a bit crazy here at the moment, so we’re not sure what time we’ll actually leave and arrive, and if it gets too bad we might just take a rental car. Dad said he’d keep us up-to-date. Didn’t you install some kind of app on your phone when you were all doing that clues challenge in River Heights? So you could share information?”

“Yeah,” George said. “You think we should do that again, don’t you?”

“I keep telling Frank that Nancy will probably show up in the morning, or at least make contact by then. But in case she doesn’t, and this turns into a real brain-bender of a case, we need to be able to communicate and share news all the time. Is that friend of yours, Alexei, is he there?”

“Yes, Mr. Drew called him,” George said.

“Good. And, uh… has anyone told Ned? I mean, I know they’re not dating anymore, but they’re still friends—”

“He knows.”

“Good. Because I’d feel bad if we found out before him.”

“We’re gonna be going through Nancy’s old cases to see if we can work out who might be after her,” George said. “In case it’s revenge. It wasn’t theft.”

“It was Nancy-theft,” Bess said. “They stole _Nancy_.”

“We’ll let you get back to it,” Joe said quickly. “See you when we get to River Heights.”

Bess sniffled as she pressed the end call button, and George led her back to the living room.

“They’re assorted according to date,” Carson said. “Not all of the perpetrators were put away, though. And some of the people from a few years back might be out of jail by now.”

“Dwayne Powers was,” George said. “He’s the guy who kidnapped Bess when we were in the Bahamas. He tried to kill Rick Arlen, and he resented Nancy for putting him behind bars. But there was another reason. He wanted Nancy to find something for him.”

“When was that?” Alexei asked, sifting through the files in one box.

“About a year ago.”

“Seventeen months, three weeks, and one day ago,” Bess said quietly. They all looked at her for a couple of seconds. Then Alexei found the file.

“Aha!” he said. “What about when he was first arrested? When did that take place?”

Mr. Fayne and Mrs. Marvin, brother and sister, wrote down the names of every criminal Nancy had uncovered, according to her case notes, as well as the locations and the outcomes. Some they knew – thanks to Nancy’s records and letters – had never gone to jail, and she didn’t even go back to her New York case to note that Dwayne Powers was no longer in jail, so it was possible that she never kept track of her enemies’ release dates. A possibility which had come back to haunt her now.

“Okay, so we need to find out who’s in jail, who’s in jail but may have connections to someone on the outside, who’s out of jail now, who’s never _been_ _in_ jail, and where everyone is,” Alexei said. “Carson, do you have a scanner so we can all keep a copy of the list?”

Carson nodded, and took the list of names to his study. They packed up the files, and Bess noticed something from the case before New York. The murder of Jake Rogers.

“Has anyone called Nancy’s Aunt Eloise?” she asked. Hannah rubbed her nose.

“No,” she said. “I don’t think Carson has, and I certainly haven’t. I’ll call her now. I can’t _believe_ I forgot.”

“I think Nancy’s got an address book in her room,” George said. “We might be able to save time by calling some of the people from her past cases and asking whether they know anything about the criminals Nancy put away. And hey, maybe some famous people like Mattie Jensen can help spread the word?”

“Honestly, I’m glad Nancy never tells anyone that she’s been kidnapped until after she’s already escaped and solved the case,” Mr. Marvin said. “If we had to do this every time, we’d never get a chance to put the boxes away.”

“Maybe we should digitise all of this information,” Mr. Fayne said. “You could do that, George. You’re good with computers. Is there some way you could link the cases to everyone involved, so any time there’s new information it’ll be added to the records?”

“Ooh, and come up with an alert for Nancy if someone is let out of jail,” George said, shifting to the edge of her seat. “Great idea, Dad. But… I want to get Nancy’s permission, first. I know we’ve just gone through her stuff, but maybe she already has something like that set up on her laptop?”

“Should we just leave everything down here, or do you want us to take it back upstairs?” Mrs. Fayne asked. Hannah shrugged.

“All of a sudden I feel so tired,” she said. “It must be my age.”

“Or it _could_ be the fact that it’s now after one in the morning,” Bess said, looking down at her watch. She’d calmed down once she had something to do, sorting through records while George installed the information-sharing app on all of their phones, and linked them to each other.

Carson returned with printed copies of the list, one for each of them.

“I’ve emailed them to you as well,” he said. “And Bess is right, it’s late. I’m sorry to keep you for so long. We’ll have to call Eloise in the morning, Hannah.”

“ _Any_ time,” Mrs. Marvin said, patting his arm. “It’s what Kate would want us to do. We all need to stick together.”

Carson nodded, and showed everyone out the door while Hannah trudged to her bedroom. Alexei was the last to leave.

“Wherever you need me to be, that’s where I’ll be,” he said. “If you need me here in River Heights, or checking out the scene of the abduction, or even helping that brain-blister Deirdre Shannon, I’ll do it.”

“You have the antique shop,” Carson said. “I can’t ask you to take so much time away from it.”

“And you can’t take so much time away from your practice,” Alexei replied. “But you will if no one helps you. Let George and Bess do what they can. They’re on holidays. And you’ve got all three Hardys at your disposal, with their myriad of contacts. River Heights PD will do everything they can to help, especially since they owe her after that false arrest when Town Hall burnt down.”

“I wish Nancy was back in jail,” Carson whispered. “At least I’d know where she was then. Not knowing where she is… _that’s_ what hurts the most. I knew where Kate was supposed to be when she died.”

“It’s been several hours, so unless she’s been taken somewhere by private jet, she’ll still be somewhere in the United States,” Alexei said. “All the ports and airports will be on the lookout for suspicious behaviour, and so will border security. If we don’t hear anything from Nancy within the next twenty-four hours, we’ll take it to social media. The more people looking out for her, even complete strangers, the better. We can use the antique shop’s phone as a help line for any tips on her location. I have a corkboard we could use for keeping track of leads, plenty of string and pins—”

“Alexei?”

“Yes, Carson?”

“…Go get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Alexei nodded. “Don’t worry too much. You need your sleep, too. If you want, I can leave a note at the office on my way home?”

“No, I already called earlier and left a message.”

“Okay. Let me know if there are any developments.”

“I will.”

 

It was a good thing they got to the airport early, because Frank was so edgy and silent that they were immediately under suspicion from Customs. It wasn’t until Joe explained that a friend of theirs had gone missing, and that’s why they were in a hurry and Frank was so worried, that the officers went easy on them. Also, the fact that they weren’t smuggling contraband items or anything. The Customs officers even wished them luck in finding their friend.

There was still half an hour before the gate was due to open, so Joe did something completely out of character, and browsed the bookstore. If he couldn’t find anything interesting, he could at least use a book to hit the back of Frank’s head if he didn’t snap out of it.

George had connected both their phones to the app, and she’d shared her suspicions about Dwayne Powers. Sure, he’d been officially declared missing, but that didn’t mean he was dead. Not if he had the right connections. Or could secretly turn into a whale.

Ordinarily Joe would go straight to the comics, but this time he started to look at non-fiction and reference books. He looked through history, and found a few books on the history and geography of America. He grabbed those, as well as one on exploration, including old maps, and another on legendary places. On his way to the counter he found something on treasure, and decided to get that as well. If he and Frank couldn’t earn a living by being detectives, they could always become treasure-hunters, in which case these could be a tax write-off. Or something.

Hey, it was for Nancy.

“Look what I bought, bro,” he said, dumping the bags in front of Frank when he returned to the waiting area. Frank glanced at the logo.

“Books,” he said. “ _You_ bought _books_?”

“We need something for the flight,” Joe said. “And aren’t you always telling me to expand my horizons?”

“You know Mum would get us any information we needed from the library,” Frank said, thumbing through Joe’s selection.

“But Nancy doesn’t know her number by heart,” Joe said. “If she has access to phone and calls us, we need to be prepared for whatever she throws at us.”

“I just hope she doesn’t need to know about modern European economics,” Frank grumbled, sitting back. Joe plopped into the seat beside him with a sigh.

“I know this is a bad situation, but it’s basically that Tesla lab all over again,” he pointed out. “Nancy got out of that okay. It’s just been a longer wait this time.”

“I wish…” Frank buried his face in his hands, and Joe patted his shoulder.

“I know,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Frank/Nancy is obviously going to be a possibility, when it comes to multiple get-together chapters. And I didn’t mean it to happen, but Alexei/Carson might also occur. So they could get their own get-together chapter, if I feel like it.
> 
> In other words, shippiness is going on, so hold on tight.
> 
> Please review!


	4. Others

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beatrice Hotchkiss and Henrik van der Hune aren't the only familiar faces Nancy is going to encounter on board.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I’m only writing in English, except for anything clue-related, probably. Pretend that people are speaking in their native languages when talking to other people from their country, okay? Okay.

Soren happily directed the other crew members as the cargo ship powered on through the waves by the East Coast of the United States of America. Being on the mainland didn’t feel like coming home, and Skipbrot never felt like home. But this, this at least felt familiar. All those hours preparing displays in the cultural centre were proving useful. Sure, it wasn’t a sailing ship like the Heerlijkheid, but he knew the difference between all the decks, and knots were knots.

“I’m glad we’re finally going somewhere,” he remarked. One of his fellow sailors was smoking, but the wind was in Soren’s favour, and kept the smoke away. He gave Soren a cursory glance.

“Yeah, if you like travelling,” the man grunted. Greek accent, if Soren wasn’t mistaken. Like the men who’d recruited him to this well-paying job.

“Oh, I do,” Soren said. “Do you know where we’re going?”

“No. Only bosses will.”

Soren frowned. “Will? You mean they don’t yet?”

“Why do you think they needed people?” another man said, leaning on the other side of Soren.

“What do you mean?”

The Greek made a slashing motion across his throat, scowling. The second man held up his hands and backed off. Soren swallowed, and decided that the conversation was over and done with, if he wanted to keep his own head.

_It was a strange offer. He’d been waiting in the Missti Skip, avoiding Gunnar whenever the man had a bottle in his hands. Any projectile, really. He’d just finished serving a table of three when he was asked to sit down._

_“We have heard you know about ships,” one of the strangers said._

_“Not as much as some of the people around here,” Soren admitted._

_“No, newer ships, not old wrecks,” the second man said. He looked pointedly at Gunnar, who watched them all with suspicion. Nothing new in that._

_“I do know quite a bit,” Soren said._

_“And about treasures,” the third one said. “Legendary treasures.”_

_He looked at each of them apprehensively._

_“I got into trouble the last time I went treasure-hunting,” he said._

_“This is what our employer is offering,” the first one said, slipping a piece of paper across the table to Soren. “The work may take a matter of weeks. It is in America. There are a great many treasures waiting to be found. We do have some experts, but this will be worth your while.”_

_Soren’s eyes bugged out when he saw the offered salary. Who could afford something like this? Well, they talked of treasure. Whoever their employer was, they were clearly expecting a huge windfall if they were successful._

_“Where are you from?” he asked._

_“Greece.”_

_“I know there are many lost treasures waiting to be found in the United States,” he said. “I studied there for awhile. Long enough to develop an accent. But are you sure about this? If you know enough about me, you’ll know… Look, I can’t afford to do anything shady. I’m always on thin ice, especially around here.”_

_“Wouldn’t you like to leave?” the third man asked._

_And yes, that was tempting. With this kind of money, Soren could go anywhere he wanted, start afresh. If these people were shady, they could even get fake documents for him. Not that he wanted to leave Iceland forever; but he wouldn’t be welcomed home, and he would never be truly welcome in Skipbrot._

_“Alright,” he said. “I’m pretty sure my passport is in order. When do I start?”_

 

Justin had been living as Colin Baxter for so long that he kept the name, and used his birth name as an alias whenever he had to do quasi-legal work. Ever since he’d been picked up by Samantha Quick, aka Zoe Wolfe, he’d worked for an agency he didn’t even know the name of. He was really only called on for his art expertise – goodness knows he had no skills when it came to physical combat – but he received enough hazard pay that he could continue his restoration work without a blight on his name, thanks to Zoe’s employers. Colin’s employers.

When he was first contacted by the people running this show, he feared it was going to be another blackmail job. But their monetary offer was generous, close to what he usually earned for his… other employers. And so he assumed that the work was for them. Not that he said anything; one of the first things Zoe – if that even was her real name – taught him was to be tight-lipped all the time. Let people tell you things, and only then will you learn. Perhaps if he’d listened to Nancy some more…

But that hardly mattered. Not now. It had been too long. She was barely college age when he met her, and he repaid her constant kindness with lies and a short temper, before leaving like a coward.

Now he was less convinced that the agency had sent him here. They hadn’t stopped him, but he certainly hadn’t been kitted out the way he usually was. Instead, until he had artwork to examine and authenticate, assuming any artwork was even found on this treasure hunt, he was expected to help around the ship. At least he’d gotten out of the heavier jobs by pointing out that if restoration was required, his hands had to be in perfect working condition. So he prepared food and kept watch for hazards. Or at least he would be, now that they were finally moving.

But he was also now remembering why he never travelled by ship. He had even taken the long ways around in Venice, rather than going by canal. He leaned against a railing, eyes shut to ignore the passing scenery and rushing water. As long as he didn’t see it, he could pretend that they weren’t travelling so fast.

“You don’t travel much, do you?”

Colin looked up, and saw… what was his name. The man from Iceland, whose name he could actually pronounce. Soren, that’s it.

“Not by boat,” Colin said. “For good reason.”

“It’ll get better,” Soren said. “The worst is when the ship is standing still. Get to the lower decks if it gets worse. You feel the rocking a lot less down there, probably because there isn’t as much as movement.”

“You don’t sound Icelandic,” Colin said.

“I studied in America. People back in Skipbrot already think of me as an outsider, even though I was only born ten miles away. I may as well make it easier for tourists to understand what I’m saying. Not that we get many tourists. Now that the main attraction has gone for a sail around the world, there are fewer visitors.”

“You have sailing experience.”

“And you’re the art expert, right?”

Colin nodded, and then felt ill again. He rested his head in his hands and breathed slowly, like Zoe had taught him. Of course _that_ was in pain training. If he treated this much the same, perhaps it would work?

“Do you know where we’re going, or how long it will take to get there?” he asked.

“No idea,” Soren said. “I think some of the people here know, but they’re keeping most of us in the dark.”

“It would be great to know who ‘they’ are,” Colin said. “But I suppose I can’t argue with the pay.”

“And it would _not_ be a great idea to argue with anyone around here who’s Greek. Especially the guy with the beard.”

“Which one?” Colin asked, with a wry smile. He knew exactly who Soren meant, and he could tell that Soren knew as well, by his answering smile.

“There are many places in America we could be headed,” Soren said. “Most likely to be either Central America or the mid-West. Utah, Colorado, Arizona. That kind of area. If they’re looking for long-lost treasures, those places would be the best bet. All the old mines, Aztec gold, untouched regions. I just hope they have good underground or underwater explorers. Who knows? Maybe we’re going in hunt of shipwrecks instead? There are plenty of those, too.”

“Which way are we heading?” Colin said.

“First we went North-East, now it’s closer to due North. So we’re probably not going to Central America. It would’ve been easier and quicker to go via the land, which makes me think shipwrecks.”

“Not more ships,” Colin moaned.

“I could be wrong. We might even be heading for Canada. I can’t think of any lost Canadian treasures off the top of my head. Although there’s supposed to be a buried treasure in the Rocky Mountains, I think. That’s more to the West.”

“Can you think of any lost treasure involving artwork?”

“Hmm. Might have to look over my notes. I was allowed to bring my laptop along.”

“They might be monitoring it, so be careful,” Colin said.

Soren shrugged, smiling bitterly.

“Who’s going to email me?” he said. “If you’re not needed up here, Colin, you should go and rest. A sleep should make you feel better.”

“I think I will. Thank you, Soren.”

“For what?”

Colin cocked his head.

“For being nice to me,” he said.

 

Nancy wished she had something to do in her cell. She had no phone, so she couldn’t even play a game. No pack of cards. No pen and paper to doodle like Sonny Joon, or even a Koko Kringle wrapper to read. She could at least entertain herself by memorising the nutritional information. Let’s see, it probably start with ninety percent sugar…

“Lunch time!”

Her stomach growled, and Nancy crawled to the back of her cell. She’d learnt not to try to grab the arm of whoever passed the plate through. The black eye still stung from Thanos’s backhand. At least it made a change from being coshed over the head with a falling… anything.

A plate and glass were pushed through the cat flap she hadn’t noticed until breakfast the first morning. It was now day two, and she’d long since discovered that the cat flap could only be opened from the outside, and was nowhere near close enough to the door handle for her to do anything. She couldn’t even fit her head through it. She would just have to wait for a better opportunity. But only if she could free Henrik and Hotchkiss. She wasn’t leaving without them, especially if her escape meant their punishment. That would be selfish.

Lunch was soup and a glass of milk. There were bits of fish in the soup, and Nancy chewed carefully to avoid bones. They probably de-boned the fish well, to make sure she couldn’t fashion a lock-pick out of any stray bits of bone. She’d need something fairly long, though, and the tiny chunks made it unlikely that she could escape via fishbone. Although that would make an excellent story.

Hotchkiss complained about the quality of the food, as usual, and Henrik chided her half-heartedly, as usual. The fact that a day and a half established a ‘usual’ at all was a statement of how _bored_ Nancy was.

“You’ll be bringing the food down here in future, with an escort,” Thanos was saying, and Nancy knocked against the cat flap. Hands collected her glass and bowl, and she waited until it was safe to stand up. Then she peered out the bars.

“You’re keeping people down here?” a blond man asked, no doubt noticing the bars on the windows and the cat flaps. “Is that safe?”

“They can’t get out,” Dwayne said. “Not even Little Miss Houdini herself.” He grinned at Nancy. “Can you, Miss Drew?”

The blond turned her way, and his eyes widened. Well, clearly Colin Baxter, aka Justin Beaumont, had had no idea that she was here. What _was_ he doing here? Had he started working for the Greek Mafia? She couldn’t picture it. He was always so harmless, despite his poor taste in sausages. Or at least his poor skills in keeping them fresh.

“Nancy Drew?” Colin said. His voice seemed to crack. He looked at Dwayne, and then back to Nancy. “I… I don’t understand.”

“When you’re looking for treasure, who you gonna call?” Dwayne said. “You see why you were told it would all be worth your while? I know she didn’t put you in jail, but you were staying at the Ca’ at the same time, and you were exposed as a criminal then. If you hate her, you’ll want to see her punished. If not, you’ll want to make sure she at least eats well. We need her to keep her strength up. And fish is a brain food. You’ll have an armed escort every time you come down here, of course. To keep you safe.” He smiled with all his teeth, and Nancy couldn’t blame Colin for his obvious shiver.

“Understood,” Colin said. “I have no reason to hate her, but we didn’t part on the best of terms. Either way, you can trust me.”

“So glad to hear it,” Dwayne said, patting him on the shoulder. Then he led Colin out without a glance back, and Nancy clasped a hand to her chest, willing her heart to stop racing.

Colin was here. That was a third person from her past among the crew, and a fifth person on the ship. Were there more of them? And how many of them bore her ill will? Colin had been surprised to see her, so maybe they didn’t know yet.

She could only hope that she’d have some allies. Not all of the people she’d met in past cases had hated her. She’d given many second chances that weren’t necessarily deserved, because she believed in redemption. Or at least she had, until Dwayne had unmasked himself at Dread Isle. He’d changed – jail might’ve done that to him – so it had been hard to think of his name at first. If she got out of this safely, along with Hotchkiss and Henrik, and Dwayne went back to jail, she was going to use the wrong name all over the place. Why not? His ego could do with the bruising.

“Are you alright, Nancy?” Henrik asked.

“Coping, so far,” Nancy said. “I’m not used to being trapped anywhere for this long. We all got pretty bored with I Spy yesterday. Know any other games we can play?”

“I can feel my mind atrophying already,” Hotchkiss bemoaned. “These scoundrels are the scourge of the sea! Fish may be a brain food, but if they expect to make it palatable, soup is _not_ the way. Sautéed in a nice, white sauce, or covered in crumbs and cooked in the oven, then served over a salad with a squeeze of lemon on top…”

“I’m begging you, Beatrice, _don’t_ ,” Henrik said. “That doesn’t help in the slightest.”

“Well, if you refuse to use your imagination, Eric—”

“Professor, why don’t you teach us French?” Nancy said desperately. “I don’t know it very well. Do you, Henrik?”

“I know some, and of course some words are quite close to Spanish, but I am willing to learn if it will keep my brain active,” he replied.

“Go ahead, Professor Hotchkiss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think only one person is reading this so far? Only one person is commenting, that’s certain. Please, if you like anything about this story, leave a review. I’ll keep writing as the ideas come, but I don’t intend to post it on Ffnet, although I suppose I could post the first chapter there and tell people to come and read and review over here.
> 
> But really, how else will I know whether it’s worth my while asking for pairing suggestions if only one reader will bother to respond? Thank you, by the way, phoenix_173.


	5. Stand With ND

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a hash-tag going viral, and it's all P G Krolmeister's fault. But if it helps spread the news about Nancy to people who can help, that can only be good. Right?
> 
> Aka the chapter where you get to guess who tweeted what. Have fun!

Nancy’s disappearance was all over the news within twenty-four hours of her abduction. Nearly everyone in River Heights had rallied as soon as the news broke, and gifts and expressions of regret flooded in, much the same way they had after the arson case. But at least this time there was less of a feeling of hypocrisy, because the town hadn’t turned against her first. Not this time.

Carson was happy to accept any home-cooked food, anything to help Hannah. She was in a terrible state, and Carson was convinced that she might cut off a finger if she tried to make any food. The Faynes and Marvins were indispensable, and Alexei… Carson was sure he wouldn’t have been able to cope without knowing that Alexei was there to help in any way he could.

The Hardy Boys were staying with the Faynes, and George stayed at the Marvins to accommodate the boys. Fenton kept in contact, even though there was nothing new in the way of information.

The blue van had been tracked to a deserted tunnel, and three similar-looking cars had driven out the other end, all with covers on the windows and large trunks. All three cars had been reported stolen, but only two had been found. One had been burnt almost beyond recognition, another had been taken to a car yard to be crushed. The police and Fenton’s contacts were trying to trace the third, since that was the one which had most likely held Nancy.

What surprised them the most, however, was the number of calls from people Nancy had helped in the past.

“Hey, look,” Bess said, un-muting the local news. Nancy’s photo was in the middle of the screen, and **#StandWithND** was beneath the picture. It was shoved to the side to make way for Jim, Nine’s reporter, who still looked like he’d swallowed a lemon every time someone said ‘Back to you, Jim’, echoing Chief McGinnis.

“Ever since news broke of Nancy Drew’s kidnapping last night, River Heights has pulled together to support her family in this difficult time,” Jim said. “The news of her disappearance was even reported on national news. After P G Krolmeister of Krolmeister Industries posted on Twitter, the news went viral, along with the hash-tag Stand With ND. So far other celebrities have echoed the message, including award-winning author Charleena Purcell, actors Mattie Jensen, Rick Arlen, and Brady Armstrong, the model J J Ling…”

“I’m going on Twitter,” George said, opening up the internet on her phone. She searched #StandWithND, and scrolled through the results, her eyes widening. There were already whole blog posts on various news sites cataloguing all the tweets and other messages with the same hash-tag.

It all started with Krolmeister, as the news had accurately reported.

_Supporting a sleuth who knows her way around our products, and catches cheating scoundrels. **#StandWithND**_

Bess and Carson leaned over her shoulders to look at the small screen. Worldwide Broadcasting had jumped in quickly, along with its stars.

_Supporting a sleuth who disarms bombs without experience, and exposes dangerous agents. **#StandWithND**_

_Supporting a sleuth and roommate who saved the love of my life. **#StandWithND**_

_Supporting a sleuth and aspiring extra who stopped my washed-up former agent from blowing me up. **#StandWithND**_

“This is _amazing_ ,” Bess said. “I can’t believe they remember her.”

“It was only a few years ago, Bess,” George reminded her.

“It feels like way longer.”

“Isn’t that the place where Nancy stayed in San Francisco?” Carson asked.

Sure enough, it wasn’t just people supporting Nancy, but bed and breakfasts, a lodge, a hotel, a ryokan, even a castle.

_Supporting a sleuth who found gold in the floor and exposed a saboteur. **#StandWithND**_

_Supporting a sleuth who exonerated Marie Antoinette and found her infamous missing diamond. **#StandWithND**_

_Supporting the granddaughter of a sleuth who saved The Lilac Inn. **#StandWithND**_

_Supporting a sleuth who charms demon wolves and chases down corrupt Olympic athletes. **#StandWithND**_

_Supporting a sleuth who pries because she cares, and recovers what was lost. **#StandWithND**_

_Supporting a sleuth who enjoys board games and exposes monsters for who they really are. **#StandWithND**_

So the news had gone outside of the USA, reaching all the way to Canada, Japan, and Germany. And France, where J J Ling still worked. It had also reached the UK, where Nancy had a number of contacts, including an ambassador.

_Supporting a sleuth who proves that lycanthropy is a myth and brings families together. **#StandWithND**_

_Supporting a sleuth who stops you from making stupid mistakes and rescues you from metal boxes. **#StandWithND**_

_Supporting a sleuth who types with great speed, even when it all comes to nothing. **#StandWithND**_

_Supporting a sleuth who doubles as the best bridesmaid, recovering errant grooms who’ve fallen afoul of their own curiosity. **#StandWithND**_

Museums where Nancy had worked also Tweeted the same messages.

_Supporting a sleuth who discovered the truth about a corrupt king and slowed the trafficking of antiquities. **#StandWithND**_

_Supporting a sleuth who uncovered an attempt at major art forgery, at great risk to her own life. **#StandWithND**_

There were also scientists, labs, and colleges Nancy had assisted, saving countless lives along the way.

_Supporting a sleuth who can collect beetle dung while still solving a mystery. **#StandWithND**_

_Supporting a sleuth who found the secret behind a boom in pineapple crops and put up with a grump. **#StandWithND**_

_Supporting a sleuth who saved the girls on campus and did her tuckshop duty with diligence. **#StandWithND**_

_Supporting a sleuth who can chase tornados with us again any day. **#StandWithND**_

_Supporting a sleuth who discovered the last resting place of Queen Nefertari and put a thief behind bars. **#StandWithND**_

_Supporting a sleuth who solved a murder, prevented injustice, and still has the highest score in Aggregation. **#StandWithND**_

Other organisations and individuals had posted about their gratitude towards Nancy, taking the internet by storm. Her picture circulated, along with links to cases she had solved. Carson knew there were tears on his cheeks, and he accepted the box of tissues Alexei passed to them. Both the girls needed tissues as well, although George just wiped away her tears with her sleeve. Bess didn’t leave any traces of makeup, and Carson realised that she was so upset she wasn’t even wearing any.

“Let’s come back to that later,” he said, and he cleared his throat. “Have we got a complete list of everyone who’s unaccounted for?”

“Not yet,” Alexei said. “But I’ve noticed something odd. Some of the people she’s… associated with, they’ve all left wherever they were, and all were seen arriving at different times in the airport.”

“Which airport?” Carson asked.

“The main airport in our state. They could’ve been staking out River Heights easily. I know most of the people around here start talking as soon as a stranger arrives, but if it could be passed off as a tourist passing through town…” Alexei handed over photos from security footage, and pictures of the people they matched. “Some of them were never put away, and in one case the man wasn’t even connected to the crime Nancy solved. Many of them are foreigners. The River Heights airport is only for local flights. Someone could’ve been following her, waiting for a chance to…”

“To strike,” Carson finished. He sifted through the profiles. “What kind of crimes did they commit? Did any of them ever try to hurt Nancy?”

“Of course,” Alexei said. “She’s just that competent, Carson.”

“I can’t believe we told her it was great that time someone tried to… I can’t even remember which case it was,” Frank muttered.

“Hey, it was true,” Joe said. “If someone tries to brain you or trap you somewhere, it usually means you’re onto something. It’s just… not so fun to think about. Y’know, in hindsight.” He squeezed Frank’s shoulder. “We’ll find her. Someone will. Or she’ll escape.”

“It’s been over thirty hours, Joe!”

“And because it was an obvious kidnapping everyone was able to get right onto it,” he pointed out. “It’s not actually that long. It only feels longer because she matters so much to us. There are some people who go missing for years, even decades.”

“Not _helping_.”

Joe sighed, and gave up for the time being.

 

Rentaro had been shocked to hear that Nancy Drew had been kidnapped. Takae had created a shrine for Nancy in the closed-off baths, near the shrine for Kasumi, Miwako and Yumi’s mother. She had also visited the nearest temple to the Ryokan Hiei, and even Yumi had visited the one near her apartment.

Rentaro did not believe in a higher power any more than he believed in ghosts. Which was why, when he was browsing Twitter on the ryokan’s account (which he had set up, but was usually run by Miwako), he wrote a message. He had to switch the keyboard settings to English, because they had only Tweeted in Japanese before.

He did not hate Nancy. He was grateful not to be in jail after his ghost puppet almost drowned her. She was very forgiving, more so than Miwako or Takae. He was lucky to see any of them at all, instead of being banned from the ryokan completely.

“That was very nice of you, Rentaro,” Miwako said, after she had seen the Tweet he had posted. “I am sure Nancy would like it very much.”

“I am sure she is safe,” he said. “Her family will probably not see it, but if they do they will know we are thinking of her, and hoping she returns home soon.”

Miwako nodded. “Could you please make sure there is enough hot water for the next tea ceremony class?”

“Of course,” Rentaro said, with a short bow. He left to go and fill the kettle, and tried not to look back over his shoulder at his ex-girlfriend. He still had hopes that she would come around and forgive him for his attempts to close down the ryokan. But he had come to see how much the place meant to her, and understood that Nancy had saved him from making a terrible mistake. If he had had the time – and no character limit – he would have mentioned that, and her love of puzzles. Perhaps Yumi could mention it on her own Twitter? He would ask her next time she visited the ryokan to deliver bento.

 

The girls of Waverly had graduated, but still kept in touch on the school’s page, and they all followed the school’s Twitter account. When they all saw the post with the tag #StandWithND, linked to reports about Nancy Drew’s abduction, it didn’t take long to realise that the girl they’d known as Becca Sawyer was the teen detective everyone was talking about. Rachel Hubbard was the first to start a conversation on the school’s page about it, and her sister Kim quickly chimed in.

_I wish there was something we could do about it_ , Rachel said.

_If the police can’t do anything, what can we do?_ Kim replied.

_Hey, I think she was actually in Skipbrot before I went and played in that festival,_ Mel said. _They’re saying she was in Iceland, and I’m pretty sure the chick who found that treasure was named Nancy Drew. I’ll check the Missti Skip’s Twitter account._

_Who would’ve thought Becca B.O. Sawyer would actually be rubbing shoulders with guys like Brady Armstrong?_ Izzy posted. _And I think the Technology of Tomorrow Today lab posted something about her. They were using that hash-tag. Something about a murder?_

_Who cares about Brady Armstrong?_ Leela said. _We were rubbing shoulders with a famous teenage detective!_

_I wish I could’ve met her_ , Megan said. _She sounded nice over the phone, and she got Corinne expelled. I wonder why she never told anyone she’d used an alias after the case?_

_Great_ , Izzy said. _Now I feel bad about writing BS has BO in, like, half the bathrooms I run across. And… one of those places may’ve been the lab._

_Nice to know we’ve all grown up_ , Leela replied.

 

Sonny drew when he was stressed. It was a habit he’d started as a kid, and while he never really got past the childish drawings, he’d at least progressed from doodles to comic strips, then to actual comics. Short ones, but they were fun to do. He had the ideas, and they were a great way to leave clues behind.

“Sonny?”

“Yeah?” he said, still shading in the boat he’d drawn. The last couple of days he’d been drawing boats, and he had no idea why. Boats, ships, anything marine-related.

“Why haven’t you posted anything on Twitter?”

He looked up at Jamila, who watched him patiently. She was wearing a red scarf over her head today. He was still waiting for the day she’d turn up with something tie-dyed to match his hair. Sure, she said she’d rather drop dead than do that, but she’d cave eventually. They all did.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “Has there been a sighting?”

“Of Nancy Drew, one of our reluctant members? No.”

“I meant an alien sighting,” he said.

“I’m sure you did. While I’m aware that membership is to be kept secret, she _was_ in Egypt when I was there, and I don’t have a personal Twitter. More than that, she helped you in New Zealand. You lured her there especially for her help. The least you can do is acknowledge her existence.”

“I do acknowledge it!”

“Online,” she said, tossing a touch-screen device onto his lap.

“Jamila…”

“Go on, Sonny,” she said softly. “You know you want to. We’re all worried about her, those of us who know her. Patrick doesn’t know how to work Twitter, and Leena is working harder than ever on that translation. She even forewent that conference to continue her work. As it turns out the conference has been cancelled, due to the mysterious disappearance of one of the speakers… Are you paying attention?”

“You want me to Tweet, so I will,” Sonny said.

“Poor Leena,” Jamila said, and she dropped the new delivery of one of the magazines SPIED was subscribed to onto the coffee table in front of Sonny. His eyes didn’t move from the screen, which was telling, considering that the cover of the journal mentioned that there was an article about the Annunaki starting on page four. “She was looking forward to hearing Dr. van der Hune talk.”

“Uh-huh,” he said. Jamila started to walk away just as Sonny posted the tweet. Then his head jerked up. “Wait, what?”

 

They all jumped when the phone rang. Hannah was the closest, and picked up the cordless receiver.

“Hello?” she said quickly.

“This is the Drew residence, right?”

“Yes,” she said. “But I warn you, if you’re another reporter, we’ve been through enough without you—”

“No, I’m not a reporter. I’m Sonny Joon.”

Her jaw dropped. They’d all read through the files, including Nancy’s references to Sonny Joon always showing up.

“I… I see. W-why have you called?”

“I think I might have a clue… of some kind.”

“Hold on a moment,” Hannah said. She looked at Carson and Alexei, who’d been poring over the list together, but stopped the moment the phone rang. “It’s Sonny Joon, or someone claiming to be him. He says he might have a clue.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Alexei said. He took the phone. “This is Alexei Markovic. I’m speaking for Nancy’s family. What clue do you have?”

“Have you heard of Henrik van der Hune? He was working at a museum in Washington when Nancy apprenticed there, and solved one of her cases.”

“Yes, I remember reading about that,” Alexei said. “He got amnesia.”

“Well, he’s gone missing. He was supposed to be at a conference, but he never showed up. His baggage arrived at the airport, but he never even got on the plane. I don’t know whether this helps, but it’s weird that he’s gone missing. You should see if anyone else she knows has gone AWOL.”

“Thanks,” Alexei said. Sonny Joon hung up without another word, and Alexei glanced at Carson before placing the phone back down.

“This has either complicated matters, or made them easier,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, decided to throw that in. I wasn’t sure how they were going to discover the other two were missing, but when I had Jamila talking about Leena it suddenly hit me that the conference might be of interest to a government decoder, maybe, and Sonny Joon might remember Henrik’s name. I can’t remember what title Henrik had, if we ever learnt it, but Doctor seemed right.
> 
> Please review!


	6. Time to Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy's doing her best with limited information, but she's going to need more if her captors expect her to find any treasure for them.
> 
> Good thing they're allowed to contact SOME people for research help.

“Right!”

Nancy jumped, and rolled off her cot. She heard Henrik swear, while Hotchkiss continued to snore. Food and drink were shoved through the cat flap.

“Good morning,” Dwayne continued, peeking through the bars. “Eat up, Miss Drew. It’s time for you to get to work. We could only get so far, but what we found was interesting enough. So hurry up. No time to waste.”

Nancy refused to rush her meal, in case she made herself sick. Once she was ready for the morning, in the same clothes she’d been wearing when she was kidnapped, she was allowed to leave the room. Thanos wasn’t there; it was a stranger manhandling her into the room next door. She glimpsed Colin carrying a tray up the stairs, and he looked back at her, catching her gaze for a second. But then he was gone, and Nancy was in a small room with a desk, a chair, and a laptop. There was another chair, and one of the guards sat in it, a gun aimed at her at all times. Dwayne typed the laptop’s password while Nancy looked at the pictures stuck up on the walls.

The maps stood out. There was a photograph of the map leading to Cibola, the one she had recovered at Dread Isle. It had been printed out on plastic a number of times, and was hanging, superimposed, over various maps of the United States. Some of the maps dated back into the 1800s, some even older. The pyramid on the Cibola map seemed to vary from place to place depending on the age of the map, or the dimensions.

“Didn’t Coronado prove that the cities of gold didn’t exist?” she asked.

“Legends have to start somewhere, Nancy,” Dwayne said. “He could’ve been led astray by the monk. The point is, about twenty years later El Toro found something, and we’re going to find it ourselves. _You’re_ going to find it for us.”

Nancy stared at the maps, and the few scattered documents in between. Mostly articles about theories regarding Cibola, probably from unreliable sources.

“Even if we – _I_ – found anything, what makes you think someone else didn’t get there first?” she asked. “Or that the information’s so out-of-date that the locations are wrong by today’s standards? And what we consider to be treasure might differ from what the Native Americans considered to be treasure. They presented the explorers with turquoise, but there was no gold.”

“There’ll be something,” Dwayne said. “You always find treasure no one else has found for hundreds of years. Get started. You’ve got until we reach the other coast of the United States. We’re following the trail El Toro took as closely as possible, which means starting on the West Coast.”

He left the room, locking the door pointedly behind him. Nancy sat at the laptop, and pulled up the web browser. How was she supposed to do this?

Well, she could start by making a list. She also brought up a word-processor, and started to note down the information she would need.

  * Anything and everything on El Toro
  * Descendents of El Toro and anyone associated with the search for gold
  * Information on Friar Marcos de Niza, including the original text of the report he’d written to Viceroy Mendoza about Cibola
  * Legends relating to buried treasure



She continued to go between the internet and her notes. The man holding her at gunpoint had a good view of the screen, and would surely see if she emailed someone to tell them where she was. Someone might even be monitoring the laptop. It wasn’t just her own life she was risking.

“Do you need help, Nancy?” Henrik called.

“I don’t know yet,” she replied. “There’s an awful lot of information I don’t have. They’ve speculated about where Cibola might be, according to El Toro’s map, but the location could be anywhere in that region. Right now I’m working out what they need to get for me. I don’t know which websites I can access, and I probably can’t leave messages in any online forums asking for… anything. If there isn’t enough in the way of hard facts, I’ll have to go with speculation. There really aren’t that many leads. Honestly, if they have the map, why do they need me?”

“Perhaps this El Toro hid clues as to how to access Cibola?” he said. “It may be difficult to get to. It may rely on the sun at a certain time of day to lead to… X marks the spot, or whatever we’re searching for.”

“I’ve had to wade through a lot of clues and mazes before in search of treasure,” she said. “And I’ve had to rely on the sun shining through the window at the right angle before, so it’s not out of the realms of possibility. Professor Hotchkiss, what do you think?”

The snoring had ceased when Hotchkiss was woken for breakfast, and she’d complained as usual about their living conditions.

“What are the possible locations?” she asked.

“Looks like Arizona or New Mexico, but it could be Utah. Maybe the X that marks the spot is the place where they border with Colorado, and form an X where the state lines intersect? The trail they want to follow starts off the map, somewhere East of the Gulf of California, South of Sonora. So I guess in Mexico. Then it curves up towards California, nearly reaches the coast, then goes East, North, East again past a large lake, South, then does a one-eighty up to a picture of a pyramid.”

“Oh, because the United States is just _rife_ with pyramids,” Henrik said.

“There are these darker stripes, which probably represent mountains or valleys, and the pyramid seems to be at the foot of one of them. It curves in like the middle of a number three.”

“The large lake might be a very good clue,” Henrik said.

“Ooh, if it’s around Utah, that might be the Salt Lake,” Hotchkiss said. “My research has mostly been situated in Mexico lately, but a cousin of mine lived in Salt Lake City for awhile.”

“Arizona was pretty arid, from what I recall,” Nancy said. “If we have to trek through the desert, I hope they’ve got plenty of water for us. It’s hard to know whether some of the cracks on the map are just cracks, or whether they were carved into the stone to indicate rivers or roads.”

She added geographical maps, especially from the sixteenth century, to the list of information or items she needed.

“Let’s hope they can find what I need,” she said, saving the document to the desktop and leaving the internet. She turned to the gun-toting heavy. “I can’t do any more for now. If we could get hold of the manuscript written by Marcos de Niza, Henrik may be able to translate it. It would be a start if we knew the route he took when he first allegedly found Cibola. And if there’s any more information your employers could find about El Toro, that would help as well.”

Fortunately the man had a key, and led Nancy back to her cell. She was locked inside again, and was grateful that at least she’d gotten a chance to exercise her mind.

Five minutes later, Dwayne stormed down the stairs.

“Mexico?” he shouted through Hotchkiss’s door. “We thought you were researching _New_ Mexico! What kind of professor are you?”

“I know what my notes mean, and the books I borrowed clearly stated Mexico.”

“You’d better find a way to prove yourself useful,” he said.

“Was the map I found part of a bigger one?” Nancy asked. “Because if it starts in Mexico, there might be something Professor Hotchkiss can help with. If she’s allowed to search online, she could put her research skills to use. A-and if we could ask other people for help, you could let her call Charleena Purcell. They’re friends, and Charleena’s helped me with research before. Twice. She knows a lot about the Old West. And if you want to know about the Spanish Conquistadors, you could ask Alejandro del Rio from the Mexican Consulate in Washington.”

“True,” Henrik agreed. “He knows all about the theft of priceless Mexican artefacts, and he could contact my archaeologist friends.”

“Alright,” Dwayne said grumpily. “And we’ll find out what we can from that list of yours.” As Nancy suspected, they monitored the laptop. “But you’d better find something, Drew, because a lot of money has been sunk into this, and if you don’t turn up trumps there’ll be trouble.”

 

“This is Charleena Purcell’s office, what is your call regarding?” Logan asked. He found working for Charleena Purcell to be much more organised than working for Savannah Woodham, and it gave him a much-needed break from Cathedral.

“Hogan, is that you? This is Beatrice Hotchkiss. Would you be a dear and put me through to Charleena?”

Logan immediately knocked on Charleena’s door.

“What is it, Logan?” she asked.

“It’s Hotchkiss.”

“Put her on!” Charleena said. Logan patched the call through, but kept the line open so he could hear as well. “Beatrice, where _have_ you been? You completely disappeared off the face of the Earth.”

“I don’t have much time, dear,” Hotchkiss said. “I need you to find some information for me. It’s a matter of life and death.”

“Life and death? Beatrice, you write non-fiction. Unless you mislead your notes, your research isn’t just going to disappear.”

“No.” Logan could tell that Hotchkiss’s voice was strained, and he wondered whether he should track the location of the phone call. “You don’t understand, dear. It’s… I’m a hostage, and I’m not alone. We need information on an explorer named El Toro, and anything you can find about his expedition to Cibola. Along with anyone else who’s searched for the place, and claimed to have found it. There’s a Catholic friar, and Coronado, and… please hurry. They have guns, and the conditions here are _appalling_. No toothpaste, no toothbrushes, and the _food_. It hardly bears description.”

“Give me that,” a gruff, male voice said. “Look, Purcell. Find out what she’s asked. Got a pen ready?”

“Y-yes,” Charleena said. Glancing through the door separating them, Logan could see how unsettled she looked.

“Write down this email address. Whatever you get, send it. And don’t contact the police, or there’ll be consequences.”

He recited an address, and both Charleena and Logan copied it down. Then the man hung up. Logan went straight into the office. Charleena was as white as a sheet.

“We could contact a private detective?” he said. “Or someone else not associated with the police? I know a few people.”

“This is terrible,” Charleena murmured. “First Beatrice went missing, then Nancy Drew. Now Beatrice has turned up again, and I can’t even ask Nancy to investigate this for me.”

“You don’t think… _she’s_ one of the other hostages Hotchkiss mentioned, do you?” Logan asked. Thinking of Nancy made him think of Bess, and he wished that things hadn’t turned out the way they did.

“I don’t know, but I suppose it’s possible,” Charleena said. “See if you can find out how to contact the Drew family, just in case. I’ll start research. I’m sorry, but it looks like the book is going to be delayed.”

“For a good reason,” Logan said, and he retreated to his desk.

Before looking up the River Heights directory, though, Logan contacted Cathedral and told them the email address. With any luck, they could help.

 

Alejandro picked up the phone, and greeted the caller absently. He stood up straight when he recognised the English accent which returned his greeting.

“Henrik?” he said. “Where are you?”

“I can’t say,” Henrik said. “Look, I must give you an email address. Have you a pen or pencil handy?”

“Yes,” Alejandro said, and he fumbled to grab a working pen and a sticky note. He jotted down the email address as Henrik recited it. “What is this for?”

“I need… _they_ need information on lost treasures,” Henrik said. “And I may need to contact you again to assist in translation. But for now, please email everything you know about the Spanish explorers who searched for gold in America. El Toro, Coronado, Marcos de Niza. Those are the names we… _they_ are most interested in. As soon as you can. I’m not the only one being held on b—”

The call was cut off, and Alejandro winced. Henrik van der Hune was clearly being held hostage somewhere, and it sounded like he was about to say ‘on board’. Was he on a boat, or more likely a ship? Who had him? And who else was being held alongside him? Was it Nancy Drew? Were there more people?

The only thing he could do for now was find what he could to help Henrik. If it meant helping those who would merely plunder wealth which did not belong to them… he would have to deal with that. They would try to track it down some other way, and this way he could ensure Henrik’s safety. And perhaps they would do less damage in their search.

He still had hope of a return call. Henrik had spoken of translation. Either he would call again, and Alejandro could ensure that there would be a tap on the phone to locate the call’s origin, or there would be a reply to the email, and the ISP, or whatever it was, could be traced.

He hoped.

 

In the late afternoon, Nancy was allowed back on the laptop. A different stranger sat with her this time. She’d decided to take a fresh approach, at least until they heard back from Charleena and Alejandro. She decided that instead of trying to find the way Coronado or El Toro had travelled, she would begin with the earliest exploration of the three: Friar Marcos. She found a website which gave the most details about Fray Marcos’s journey, and she discovered a map. She saved the image to the desktop, and even found that she could send it to a wireless printer on board.

She tried to find some more old maps, but it seemed that whoever was in charge of this treasure hunt had already done their best. Still, was it possible that a land survey person would have maps not available online or to the general public? Maybe a map which had to be purchased, like the one she’d found in Shorty’s desk at Shadow Ranch? If only she could remember the phone number, or who she’d spoken to, or even the name of the organisation…

Her case files. It would be in her case files! But what were the chances she’d be allowed to call home? She’d asked to phone her Aunt Eloise, in case the Paseo Del Mar School library had any information she could use, or to call Frank and Joe’s mother, who was also a librarian. But she’d been denied on both counts. Apparently her disappearance had made international news.

After printing the text from the web page as well, Nancy was returned to her cell, where she waited, curled up on her bed. She’d been there when she’d heard the smack and the grunt that suggested Henrik had been hit after slipping up when talking to Alejandro del Rio. Honestly, if the people investigating their abductions had any brains of _course_ they’d suspect sea travel. But people were trying to get as much trade done before the president banned it completely, so the oceans were busier than usual. Perfect timing for the kidnappers; not so perfect for their hostages. Not without a way of sending a message in a bottle.

“I was told to bring the print-out down here?”

Nancy knew that voice. She walked to the door, and peeked through the bars.

“Soren!”

“Nancy?” He stared at her. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re prisoners,” she said. “They want us to find treasure that may not even exist. Could I look at the print-outs? I ordered them from the research cell next door.”

Soren nodded dumbly, and passed the paper through the bars.

“You’re not to give her anything,” his escort said, grabbing the papers back. But Nancy managed to hold onto the map.

“Marcos de Niza started his journey in Central America, and it looks like the Cibola _he_ found was in a different location to the one El Toro discovered,” she said. “So when he reported that the city of gold didn’t exist, it’s because he hadn’t found the real one. Or maybe El Toro’s crude map was wrong. Could someone make copies of this and do the same thing, putting them over the other pictures?” She passed the paper back through to the agitated guard, who glared at Soren. “What are _you_ doing here? I thought you were still doing community service in Skipbrot?”

“They made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” Soren said. “A big salary that could enable me to leave Iceland behind and fund my own work, whatever I wanted to do. Elisabet and Magnus are still travelling together, and everyone else is still hostile towards me. Less overtly than before, but I never had a chance of fitting in. It’s even _more_ hopeless now, which I never would’ve thought possible.”

“I’m sorry, Soren,” Nancy said.

“You went easy on me, considering I trapped you in an icy cave using an axe,” he replied blithely. “Anyway, I’ll see you around. I guess. It’s so _weird_ that you’re here… Oh. Oh, that’s part of why they said it’d be worth my while, wasn’t it?”

“You’re not the first to realise that,” she said. “Just… make sure copies are made of that map, okay?”

Soren nodded, and retreated upstairs. Nancy returned to her cot and went over her French lessons from yesterday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was looking at the map I had of Friar Marcos’s journey and realised that his Cibola doesn’t match up with El Toro’s Cibola. Interesting…
> 
> I swear, I’ll throw in an ‘It’s locked!’ at some point! Promise!
> 
> Please review.


	7. Midnight in Salem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to see into the life of Deirdre Shannon, and her investigation into whatever the heck is happening in Salem. Ned may have weird date suggestions, but he knows Nancy's methods, and if they can help here, he's willing to chip in with advice.
> 
> Then again, Deirdre's got good instincts as well.

Just _what_ had possessed Deirdre to come here in the middle of the night? It was bad enough having to visit the creepy crypt in the first place, during daytime. But after fudging her way through a puzzle – and eventually checking online to find a solution, because riddles _so_ weren’t her thing – she’d found a reference to doing something in the crypt at midnight.

So now Deirdre was sitting in the mostly-darkness, with a large flashlight, spare batteries, and her phone as an additional light, playing a match-three puzzle, when there was a clanging sound from somewhere. She shrieked, and then clamped her free hand over her mouth.

“Be brave,” she mumbled. She stuffed her phone in her pocket, forgetting all about the high score she’d been on to, and grabbed the flashlight. She tried to trace the source of the sound, and eventually found a gape in one of the pipes running through the place. Were crypts even supposed to have pipes? It’s not like ghosts or corpses needed a lavatory system or even a drinking fountain.

Come to think of it, that hole in the pipe didn’t look rusted or worn away. It looked even, almost like it was… _supposed_ to be there.

“Ha,” she said softly. She stuck her finger in the hole, tugged, and an unseen hinge caused the bottom half of the pipe to swing down. Deirdre definitely couldn’t crawl inside – the pipe was barely wider than her wrist – so unless she found a trained mouse, rat, or weasel, she was fresh out of luck.

Still, she couldn’t help looking in both side using her flashlight. One half was empty, but the other half had a key. Rusty and old, maybe even _four centuries_ old, but it didn’t crumble apart when she touched it. She pocketed the key gingerly, hoping it wouldn’t scratch the surface of her phone. Then she stepped back, only to notice something off.

There was writing on the inside of the pipe ‘door’. She pulled out her phone, and used it to snap some pictures, including close-up. It was kind of hard to make the symbols out, and they may have worn away over time. But image-enhancing software would fix that, as well as a bit of internet research.

“Bingo,” she said. She swung the pipe up, and it latched back into place after a tap from her flashlight. Deirdre double-checked the key in her pocket, and realised that the clanging sound had stopped. Did she miss whatever was supposed to happen, or was it just supposed to lead her to the pipe? What even caused the sound?

An owl hooted outside, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“I’m so getting out of here,” she muttered. She could check the symbols later, and only come back at night if she absolutely had to. And preferably with Ned. The only reason she hadn’t asked him to come with her was because he had a huge assignment to work on, while simultaneously worrying about the lack of contact from anyone at River Heights. They’d called the once to tell him about Nancy’s abduction, which he already knew about from Deirdre, and didn’t bother telling him anything since then.

She crept out of the crypt and closed the door carefully behind her. She locked it, and turned slowly, keeping an eye out for any moving shadows. Good thing she had sneakers on; it was way easier to hear anyone coming if she was walking quietly.

She returned to her dorm, hoping no one would make a big deal out of her being out so late. Her key card would’ve registered in the system. It was great to have such good security, especially with people running around accusing others of witchcraft like they’d been possessed by spirits of the past…

The past. That’s _it_.

Instead of going straight to bed, Deirdre put the pictures she’d taken onto her laptop, transferred them to USB, and made sure they were in the Cloud. Then she decided to comb through the list of names from people involved in the Salem witch trials.

Little Miss Perfect probably would’ve already done this, but Deirdre was caught up in the _present_. She didn’t want to scour through history. But if she had to do it, she’d do it. Ned had suggested she read the works of Nathaniel Hawthorne, anything to do with witchcraft, since a knowledge of Poe’s works had helped Nancy in case number blah-blah- _whatever_. Like Deirdre had time to waste on literature. She had college work to do, something Nancy didn’t. Especially now.

Okay, that little sting of something suspiciously like guilt was really not wanted right now, and not helpful.

Only about a minute into her research, Deirdre sat back in her chair.

“Whoa,” she said.

One of the young women who’d gone around accusing innocent people of witchcraft, causing the trials in the first place, was Elizabeth Parris. Who’d had a brother named Thomas, who might’ve had children, grand-children…

All the way down to Mei and Teegan. Deirdre’s friend Mei and her sister.

And another surname stood out. Danforth, the name of the judge who was supposed to be finding someone to run the Hathorne House tourist attraction, and whose son was nearly burned to a crisp, then practically pointed the finger at Mei.

“Something’s rotten in the state of Massachusetts,” Deirdre declared. She saved her work, yawned, and decided to leave the symbols on the pipe until morning.

But she emailed all the pictures to Ned first, and then deleted the email from her Sent Items folder. Just in case.

 

Deirdre had picked Friday night so she could sleep in the next day, but she woke to her phone going off like crazy. She cracked her jaw yawning, and rubbed it with a pained wince while she answered the call.

“`Lo?” she said.

“Hey, Deirdre, are you busy today?”

“Neddy!” she exclaimed, suddenly wide awake. “Absolutely free for you.”

“Great. I thought we could do a historical tour of Salem.”

Deirdre blinked, and wondered whether she was now dreaming about weird dates with Ned. Because she could’ve _sworn_ she’d just heard him suggest about the most _boring_ date anyone could ever think of.

“Uh…”

“I got those pictures you sent me,” he said. “You’re really getting into this case, and I remember you telling me that Jenna Ravencraft would be a more obvious suspect than Mei, since you couldn’t see how her tours could be faked.”

“Not that it’s necessarily witchcraft,” Deirdre said, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she sat up in bed. “But if she’s that good at faking magic, she could be really good at framing people, as well.”

“And it’d be interesting to see how closely she sticks to Salem’s history, whether she really knows her stuff, or embellishes,” Ned added. “There’s a tour starting at The House of the Seven Gables in an hour. It ends there as well. Then there’ll be _another_ tour starting after lunch, same place, same kind of route. Run by John Grey tours.”

“Ooh, do you think he’ll be the tour guide?” Deirdre asked.

“I doubt it. He’s probably working on his latest show.”

Deirdre sighed. Then the rest of Ned’s words registered.

“An _hour_?” she said. “I can’t get ready in that time!”

“You look lovely whatever you wear, even out of makeup,” he told her.

Deirdre growled, and hung up. Guys just did _not_ get these things.

 

Jenna Ravencraft was in her usual flowing dress, thicker material due to the weather, but still heavily embroidered and probably hiding a ton of tricks. Everyone was offered hot cocoa before the tour, but Deirdre had brushed her teeth literally _just_ before running out the door to meet Ned. Jenna looked annoyed when Deirdre refused the drink, and insisted she’d need the energy.

“Diabetes,” Deirdre said. “I’ve got backup sweets in case I need them.”

Ned looked curious, but didn’t comment on the fact that Deirdre didn’t actually have diabetes. Instead he linked his arm around hers, a bit of hot chocolate foam on his upper lip. He licked it away when he noticed Deirdre’s pointed look.

They were first given a thorough – and thoroughly _boring_ – history of The House of the Seven Gables, owned by Who Cares and visited by Writer Dude. Written about him, as well. Deirdre had read the pamphlets. She didn’t need to hear all of this again. But Ned was there, and he didn’t seem worried about Nancy. He was more concerned with helping Deirdre with this case, which was… nice. It was nice to be thought of. Wanted.

The theatrics started as they approached the Corwin house, more commonly known as The Witch House. Also known as a spooky copy of the Hathorne House where the fire had taken place. Or, considering the age, the Hathorne House was a spooky copy of The Witch House.

“Huh,” Deirdre said. Jenna waved her hands around, and sparks started to fly from the garden bed near the sign. Looked like cheap sparklers. But everyone else seemed impressed, which was typical of small-town hicks. Or tourists hopped up on the hot chocolate beforehand.

“Look!” Ned exclaimed, pointing at the flowers. “Don’t they look _alive_ to you?”

“Uh… no?”

“I can hear _wailing_!” one of the tourists said. “Can’t you hear it?”

“The cries of the innocent condemned!” Jenna said, waving her arms around again.

“What wailing?” Deirdre said.

“It’s really faint, but just listen,” Ned told her. Deirdre strained to hear it. She noticed Jenna watching her with a slight scowl. Suspicious, Deirdre glanced at the cup of cocoa Ned was still holding.

“Right, I think that’s enough sugar,” she said, taking it from him. Jenna tensed, and Deirdre tightened her grasp on the cup. “Seriously, fake voices and sparklers aren’t that impressive. I thought you were supposed to be competitive?”

“The voices sound really weird, though,” Ned whispered. Deirdre stared at him, really stared, and the look in his eyes…

“That does it,” she said, stomping a few feet away and pulling out her phone. “I’m calling the cops.”

“What?” Jenna said sharply.

“Hello, this is Deirdre Shannon. I need someone to come straight to The Witch House. I believe Jenna Ravencraft is spiking the hot chocolate she serves on her tours with hallucinogenic substances.”

“How _dare_ you--!”

“Oh, _very_ easily,” Deirdre hissed as the dispatch officer assured her someone would be right there. “And if anyone spills this before someone gets here to investigate, they’ll know something’s wrong. If anyone around here is practising any kind of witchcraft, it’s _you_. You’re poisoning your customers!”

“I’m… I’m not!”

“Good luck telling that to the police when I make sure my boyfriend, _and_ the rest of the people here, are all tested,” she said.

“No!” Jenna said, stepping forward. Ned jumped between them, although he stumbled a little, and Deirdre almost spilled some of the cocoa steadying him. “I… I can explain. Just don’t involve the cops.”

“Hel- _lo_ , I’m studying criminology. I’m not letting you get away with this, and I’m _not_ letting them put my friend in jail for something you probably did. What, do you have sparklers at the Hathorne House, too? Or something bigger? Did a pyrotechnic test run get out of control? Judge Danfoth’s son said he saw a ghostly woman, and you’ve gotta admit, the clothes you wear? The makeup? You could definitely be mistaken for it. Just because Mei’s got albinism doesn’t mean she can pass for a ghost. She doesn’t dress like she’s from another century, for one thing.”

“Look, I’ll tell you what I know about the place,” Jenna said, holding up her hands in a don’t-shoot-me way. “But don’t press charges.”

“You only _tried_ to drug me, you didn’t actually succeed,” Deirdre said. “I’m not the one you should be convincing. And withholding _any_ information that’s relevant to a police investigation is against the law. You want me to quote the exact legislation? Because I’ll do it. I know all this stuff.” Okay, she probably couldn’t quote it exactly, but Jenna was too frazzled to challenge her. “Don’t worry. I’ll visit you in jail as long as you tell me _everything_ you tell the cops.” There were sirens in the distance, which was kind of unexpected, but a nice touch. “If you make a deal with them, you might get a lighter sentence. Depending on the class of drug you used.”

Jenna crossed her arms, and refused to look at anyone. Deirdre dutifully handed over the cocoa, pretty cool by now, to the forensic specialist accompanying the cops. They also summoned an ambulance to arrange multiple drug tests. Eventually people began to complain of dizziness and nausea, including Ned.

“Maybe whatever was used has left your mind open to the power of suggestion,” she said, sitting beside him on a bench while a paramedic drew some of his blood. “And that’s why you’re all feeling ill. Because you’re aware of it.”

“Or it could be walking around while drinking melted chocolate,” he replied. “But… thanks. For noticing that. Not everyone would.”

“Hey, I guess I’m becoming a more suspicious person,” she said. “You should go home after this. Do you want me to go with you?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, and then he groaned. “No, you go on the other tour. See what you can find out. Sorry this one was a bit of a wash.”

“Are you kidding? The cops can now focus on someone other than Mei. I’d say this was one of your best ideas, Nedstopher. Sorry I doubted you at first.”

“Nancy was always coming up with crazy ideas to follow in her investigations,” Ned replied. “I guess I’ve gotten used to it. Sorry. I wasn’t going to mention her, but…”

“No, I’m kinda surprised you’ve restrained yourself until now. I could use any advice. I asked her if I could call for help, and she said sure, but now…” Deirdre heaved a sigh. “I don’t know who else I can turn to.”

“There’s Alexei Markovic. And the Hardy Boys. I’m sure they’re already in River Heights, if they were able to get there. Why don’t you call Nancy’s house? I could give you the number.”

“I’ll think about it,” she said. “Right now, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

 

After Ned headed home, Deirdre had more time than she’d thought she would, so she did some shopping before lunch.

“Let’s see what you have to say for yourself, Mr. Hawthorne,” she said, opening one of his books of short stories. _Twice-Told Tales_. Deirdre didn’t think she could handle a full horror novel, but tiny chunks of story were probably doable, especially between assignments. And if she hated the books, she’d just give them to her parents for Christmas.

She stopped reading to have lunch, and then took everything to the area where she was supposed to wait for the John Grey tour. She went back to reading, using the bookstore receipt as a bookmark, and continued until someone cleared their throat.

“Uh-huh?” she said, tucking her book away.

“I’m Dylan Carter,” the man said, tipping his hat. A fedora. Really? “I’m in charge of the Salem tour. Are you here for that?”

“Yes, I am,” Deirdre said. This was the kind of guy she would’ve hit on before, but not now that she was with Ned. She’d waited and hoped long enough, and he was where her loyalty lay. “I was on the tour this morning, but that got cancelled.”

“Should you be here?” he asked, leading her to the tour sign. “I heard people were drugged.”

“I didn’t drink it,” she said. “Diabetes.”

“Good on you,” he said. “I doubt I’d have the willpower to avoid sweets all my life.”

“It wouldn’t be a very long life if you had too many of them.”

“Noted,” he said. “Okay, the tour starts in ten minutes. Looks like there are a few more people headed this way.”

“Did you really learn from John Grey?” she asked. Dylan pulled out an ID card with his qualification.

“Sure did,” he said.

“And where are you from?”

“The UK. I was most recently in Egypt, but I got a bit tired of all the sand. Did you know that if you drink _too_ much water in a dry place like that, you can get sick?”

“Didn’t know that at all,” Deirdre said.

“Just a little tip for the future,” he said, with a wink. Deirdre barely refrained from rolling her eyes. She kept silent and then did something she’d never done before.

She ignored a guy to read a book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so we get a glimpse of what’s happening in Salem. I’d honestly be very surprised if any of this happened in the game, but I figured the ‘Midnight’ in the title had to be for a reason. The game description mentions doing a tour of historical Salem and exploring the crypt. I was actually doing research on the area when I recognised the name Parris, and when I read the description again I recognised Danforth, so I couldn’t help mentioning the links.
> 
> Anyway, hope you’re enjoying this. I know phoenix_173 is, which is good, but if there are members of the Clue Crew following and/or reading this story, I’d really like some feedback.


	8. More Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy's affected many lives, mostly for the better. Some of those people can't stop thinking about her, and are determined to do anything they can to help out.
> 
> Special appearance from the chicken mentioned in SEA. Cluck-cluck!

“I can’t do this, Wade.”

“Yes, you can.”

Savannah stared out the window of the car. They’d seen footage of the motorway ever since Nancy was reported missing, and Savannah had watched everything she could obsessively. She knew every turn they had to take to get to the site of the kidnapping… and now she couldn’t.

“What if she’s _dead_?”

“She won’t be,” Wade said. “Come on, Savannah. Pull yourself together.”

“I can’t… I can’t be the first to know.”

“If Nancy was dead, whoever was responsible would be the first to know. And you know what they’ve been saying. She’s just disappeared. No body has shown up yet, so don’t start worrying about it.”

Savannah glanced across the car. If it wasn’t for Nancy, she wouldn’t have had this second chance with Wade. Just as long as Savannah stayed away from the island where Charlotte Thornton’s spirit lingered, she was fine. She’d go anywhere else with Wade. But this still had her on edge.

“What if she _is_ dead?” Savannah asked.

“Then you’ll know, and it’ll be easier for the police to investigate,” Wade replied.

“That’s not exactly helpful, hun.”

“I don’t like it when you freak out over these things. It’s not good for you.”

She couldn’t help smiling, although that faded when they pulled up. Forensics had finished going over the site days ago, so the police cordon was gone. But there were flowers and teddy bears and cards at the site, and Savannah’s legs trembled so badly that she had to rest against the car. Wade rubbed her arms and gently kissed her on the forehead.

“It’ll be okay,” he murmured. “Are you sure you don’t want me to reach out to guys I knew in jail, and ask if they know anything?”

“N-not yet,” she said. “Not without asking Nancy’s family about it.”

“Then let’s get over here. She was supposed to be still alive, just unconscious, when she was taken away, so chances are you won’t pick up anything. And it’s too noisy and cold for any readings.” He frowned, and Savannah chuckled. They both used ghost-hunting equipment, and he was right: the conditions here weren’t perfect. She tucked her hand into his, and they carefully crossed the road.

Already Savannah could tell there wasn’t anything for her here. She’d sometimes felt a restless or mournful spirit along the motorway, the area sometimes marked with a cross and flowers for someone who’d died in an accident. But the area where Nancy had last been seen was clear. She relaxed, and noticed Wade’s relieved smile. He could talk big and positive, but he was just as worried about their detective friend as Savannah was.

“So what now?” he asked.

“I guess… I dunno. Head to her hometown? I can’t concentrate on my next book, and Jessalyn’s taken over your work for the time being.”

“She did say to take as long as we needed,” he said. “I think she’s pretty concerned about Nancy as well.”

“Nancy exposed Charlotte’s killer, which is all Jessalyn wanted,” Savannah said. “I think Charlotte would’ve wanted it, too. She couldn’t show me what she needed to, so she found someone else to do it.”

“Do you feel better now? More optimistic about Nancy’s fate?”

“For now. I do wanna see if I can help. Maybe we’ll just be in the way, but maybe there’s something we can do. And maybe you knew someone Nancy’s put in jail?”

“There’s no harm in asking,” Wade said, leading Savannah back to the car. “She’s one of the most sceptical people I’ve ever met, so her family and friends are probably the same.”

“So we won’t mention the ghost-hunting,” Savannah said, squeezing his hand. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“What, any of this? Naw, it’d be nice to help out the girl. Like repaying a debt.”

 

“Oh _man_ ,” Joe muttered, staring out the window. “Frank, you’re not gonna believe this. The _nerve_ of the guy, showing up here.”

“Who is it?” Frank said.

“Tino Balducci.”

“What?” Fenton asked. He’d joined the Drew household the day before, and had taken Alexei’s spare room for the time being. “I’d better call Chief McGinnis, ask if he knows about this.”

“Nancy showed him up once, and discovered that he’d pulled the emergency brake on the train,” Frank said, joining Joe at the window. Sure enough, famed cop Tino Balducci was strolling up the lawn towards the front door. “Maybe he’s got something to do with it, and he’s come here to gloat?”

“Please,” Joe said. “Like he could keep her hidden for this long. We’re dealing with professionals, not incompetent jerks—”

The bell rang. Bess answered.

“Hi,” she said awkwardly.

“This where Nancy Drew lives?” Tino asked.

“Usually,” George replied from the dining room, where she was grabbing a plate of lunch. “Who are you?”

“I’m Tino Balducci. I’m a cop. I’ve helped Nancy a couple of times. Last time was in a lodge in… Canada, I think. Got some info on the suspects for her.”

“Balducci,” Joe said, appearing behind Bess. Tino raised his eyebrows.

“Of course,” he said. “I forgot she was with you guys. Your brother here?”

“And our father, Fenton Hardy,” Joe said.

“Wait… you’re _his_ kids?” Tino flushed. “I should’ve known, I guess. You were pretty good for amateurs.”

“Even better now,” Frank said, joining them at the door. “Since we’ve had so much practise. What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to help,” Tino said. “She… she went pretty easy on me. Gave me a chance with that lodge case when I was persona non grata to a lot of people. Gave me a bit of my confidence back.”

“Yeah, she does that,” Bess said. “Um… I guess… come in?”

“Can’t hurt to have fresh eyes, I guess,” Joe said. “And maybe you’ve got contacts Dad doesn’t.”

“Thanks,” Tino said gruffly, and followed them in. His eyes widened when he saw Fenton going through his contact book. “Uh… it’s an honour to meet you. We’ve all heard about your work.”

“I’ve heard about you, too,” Fenton said, not looking up. “Take a seat. Nancy’s father is at work, and so is Alexei. He’s a former detective who’s helping out with the investigation. Hannah, we’ll need another plate for lunch.”

“Oh, I already grabbed a burger on the way here,” Tino said.

“A cheeseburger?” Joe asked. He couldn’t help himself.

“Uh… no. Bacon burger.”

“I swear, I’m the only one around here who loves cheeseburgers.”

“You want something to do, you can look over the list of everyone Nancy’s incarcerated in the past,” Fenton said. “Make a note of anyone you might know. After that, take me through all your contacts, good and bad, and we’ll discuss who’s worth calling.”

Tino nodded, and silently got to work.

 

Bet Rawley paced around the kitchen while her husband Ed stirred a pot of stew on the stove.

“It just doesn’t seem right to me,” Bet said.

“What doesn’t?”

“To send the boys off to the rodeo.”

“If that’s what they wanna do for the holiday, that’s what they can do,” he said. “We can make this farm work without them. And Tex and Mary just got married. If that’s what they want in lieu of a honeymoon, even with Dave going along, why should we stop them?”

“Oh, because Dave’s been so down lately,” Bet replied. “You know he was sweet on Nancy, and it seems he still is. He can’t get over the fact that she’s gone missing, and no one knows where to find her.”

“Except whoever’s got her locked up somewhere,” Ed remarked. Bet hit him on the back of the head with an oven mitt.

“He’s so distracted he could probably fall off a horse right now,” she said.

“Look, Bet, with all this fancy technology nowadays, it’ll be no time at all before the police or the FBI or even the CIA find her. Nancy will be _fine_. We get daily reports from Bess and George, so we know as much as they know. Just let the boys and Mary go to Colorado if they want to. Nothing we say is gonna stop them. The best you can do is advise Tex and Mary to keep an eye on Dave, and make sure he doesn’t go in any of the rodeo contests if he seems distracted.”

“Yes… yes, you’re right. Oh, I _wish_ we could do something. The animals can tell. Even that horror of a chicken is subdued most days, and poor old Bob keeps looking out towards the trails Nancy used to ride with him.” Bet leaned against the table. “Do you think I should call Mary right now?”

“Yes,” Ed said decisively. “This stew can’t cook itself, and I can’t cook it with you flapping about in here and hitting me with things.”

Bet poked her tongue out behind his back, and stomped into the living room next door, fishing her cell phone out of her pocket.

“Look, if it’ll make you feel happy, we could get someone else to watch the farm and go along with them, so Mary and Tex don’t have to play babysitters the whole time,” Ed called to her.

“Maybe,” Bet said absently, finding Mary’s number in her phone.

 

Maya Nguyen was grateful for George’s constant stream of emails. It allowed her to keep up with the case and provide updates in the magazine. Sure, she didn’t work for a major paper or journal, but _Weird Wacky World_ , who’d hired her straight out of college, had perceptive readers. Okay, conspiracy theorist readers, but they had to be able to come up with every possible – and even impossible – theory to fit various sets of clues, just like real-life detectives.

So Maya had challenged her readers to see if they could solve the case just by reading her online updates.

Nancy had saved her life, after all. She’d reminded her readers of the kidnapping at the Royal Palladium, where Nancy had not only persisted until she found Maya, at great risk to her own life, but also saved the theatre by discovering Nicholas Falcone’s half share in ownership.

The newspaper had established a helpline, since Nancy had solved (and debunked) many of the cases the paper had mentioned before. Straight after the Royal Palladium, for example, she’d discovered who was responsible for mysterious red handprints being left at the scenes of crime. She’d mentioned that particular case in the latest issue of _Weird Wacky World_ , because George had told her that a suspect in the case, Henrik van der Hune, had also been kidnapped, and was possibly being held by the same people who had Nancy.

Maya had done a little more digging after that, looking into the old case of the Scarlet Hand. She’d discovered that the man responsible for artefact trafficking, Taylor Sinclair, had been released from jail only four months ago, even though it hadn’t made it into the mainstream news. It’s not like he could find work in anything art-related, not with his reputation deservedly shot to pieces. Maya wondered how many _other_ criminals had been released without the public knowing. Without anyone bothering to tell Nancy, for that matter.

“Hi, George,” she said, as soon as the phone was answered. “It’s Maya.”

“Hey, Maya. Let me just put Bess on as well.”

“Okay.”

A second later…

“Maya, how are you?”

“I’m fine, Bess. How are you two holding up?”

“Okay, so far,” George said. “Did you get our last email?”

“Yes, I did. I’m calling because I wasn’t sure whether you knew that Taylor Sinclair was out of jail, so I wanted to—”

“He’s _what_?” they chorused.

“…So you _didn’t_ know that. I think I’m gonna need a full list of every perp Nancy’s put away. If you didn’t know about this, who knows what else you might be missing?”

“You’re the _best_ , Maya,” George said.

“We owe you one,” Bess added.

“It’s no problem,” Maya said. “Nancy saved my life. You think I’m not gonna help save hers if I can?”

“Thanks so much for the information,” George said. “We’ll pass it on.”

“Yeah, and we’ll email you the list as well,” Bess said.

After saying goodbye, they hung up. Maya checked her emails, and a minute later one appeared from George. She clicked on the attachment, and began to jot down every name on the list.

Time to get to work. If there was a chance they could get a scoop on the case, everyone at _Weird Wacky World_ would love to get in on this. If they didn’t, Maya would stop bringing home-cooked food for everyone, and only bring it for herself.

 

Ned grumbled in his sleep. Burt had had to go out for a group assignment, so Henry Bolet had offered to watch over Ned while the drugs wore out of his system.

“These jerks who think they can get away with drugging innocent people,” Burt said, shaking his head as he passed Henry on the way out of the door. “Listen, I’ll only be gone a couple of hours, and I’m pretty sure Ned’s girlfriend will be back before me, after that historical thing she’s doing. Got headphones or a book or something?”

“Yes,” Henry said.

“Great. See you later!”

Henry couldn’t curl up in armchairs; his legs were way too long for that. So he slumped down and opened up Charleena Purcell’s latest book. Apparently there was a Southern Gothic feel to it, according to all the ads, and the news on campus.

Summer liked to read Charleena Purcell. She was the only author Summer would read, actually, never bothering to open any other books. After finally caving and reading some reviews online, Henry had come across discussion boards about the portrayal of relationships in fiction, and how it affected real life. He ended up participating in the boards, trying to defend girls like Summer, who were nice enough to take pity on guys like Henry.

Boy, had the people on the boards reacted to that. Simultaneously jumping down his throat and defending him, saying that there was nothing wrong with him. From the little he’d said about Summer they declared her a horrible person, and defined their relationship as abusive. Henry would find the right girl one day. He just had to be patient and know how to keep his eyes open.

He’d been challenged to read several different romance authors, but everyone agreed that when it came to historical accuracy, few could beat Charleena Purcell. And when he found out that she’d met Nancy Drew, he knew he had to try her books; there was nothing else he could do except try to take his mind off her disappearance.

It was weird to think of Deirdre Shannon, the shallow girl who sometimes seemed like a nicer version of Summer, as Nancy’s replacement. But Ned liked her, Burt approved of the fact that Deirdre wasn’t constantly missing dates that she’d made with Ned, and… was that a chicken? Henry squinted as an actual chicken walked through one door and back through another.

“Weird,” he muttered.

Well, he couldn’t help Nancy, but he could watch over Ned. And whatever other poultry were wondering around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ll get back to Nancy soon. I just want to make sure we get to see other people as well, and how things might tie together later. Since I’m making up a lot of this as I go along, it’ll be interesting to see how things turn out. But I’ve got enough ideas about where it’s going to throw in things which are supposed to be relevant further along in the story, some sooner than others.
> 
> And everyone seems to love Henry. Well, most people do. And I couldn’t not throw in the chickens.
> 
> Please review!


	9. Back on the Ship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things progress as more information trickles down to cargo. Until Henrik finishes his translation, however, Nancy has a lot of time for self-reflection, and it's not fun.
> 
> Meanwhile Colin is not taken with the other people on the ship, and Hotchkiss has a surprise up her sleeve, showing that you should NEVER underestimate a doddery, redheaded professor.

It took two days, but somehow Dwayne was able to get hold of the original text of Fray Marcos’s report to Mendoza. Henrik was given the task of translating it from the original language, leaving Nancy to hang around her cell with nothing to do except listen to his mutterings, or learn more French from Hotchkiss. She criticised Nancy’s pronunciation, sometimes prompting Henrik to shush both of them so that he could concentrate. Nancy knew how important this was to all of them, and fell silent when he asked her to.

Unfortunately, it left her with a lot of time to reflect on her life. This wasn’t the first time she’d been kidnapped or trapped somewhere, but it was the longest. Could she keep this up her whole life? Deirdre had pointed out that Nancy had a bad habit of being knocked on the head. What if it did permanent damage? She couldn’t wear a helmet twenty-four-seven every time she was on a case.

It was times like this, when Hotchkiss was snoring away, and the only other sound was Henrik’s pen scratching away on paper, that Nancy’s mind chose to torment her with the ‘what if’s. What if she’d found out that Henrik and Hotchkiss had been abducted first, and tried to solve their disappearances? What if she’d ignored Deirdre’s phone call until she got to Salem?

And what if Nancy decided to give up being a detective?

Now that was a thought which haunted her, asleep or awake. She loved helping people, and she loved solving puzzles. Being a freelance detective allowed her to do both of these things, even though it didn’t always pay well. She earned more doing other things on a case, whether it was dancing in a cat suit or making up circuit boards or recreating the Mona Lisa.

Working with children in Japan had been rewarding, and Nancy enjoyed it, although she didn’t feel she was up for teaching full-time. Her experiences with Jane and Lukas were different; she kept them happy by playing board games with them.

Which undercover case had Nancy enjoyed the most? It was hard to say how much she’d enjoyed any of them. Being Minette’s assistant in France was stressful, being a storm-chaser was exhilarating but dangerous, working in a museum was… pretty okay, but unless there was a potential art heist going on it didn’t give Nancy the adrenaline boost she enjoyed when she was on the chase.

Her father once recommended that she become a librarian. It would fulfil her need to be helpful, and if she worked in a high school or college library she could help students find all sorts of obscure information for assignments. She wouldn’t have to teach, and… there’d be no mystery. There’d also be a lot of boring administrative stuff which would just put her to sleep.

“I guess it’s this until I die,” she murmured, staring at the ceiling. “Which could be any day. I’m sorry, Dad. I should’ve seen the careers advisor, but… but I thought I knew what I wanted to do. It’s hard having to pick so early. People change careers all the time in real life. This just… feels right. Not saying I’d work for Cathedral, or for the police, but I need to do this for as long as I can.”

She balled her hands up into fists and rolled onto her side.

 

“Va-tek-tib,” Colin read, craning his head over the side of the ship. He’d managed to work past the worst of his seasickness. _Mal de mer_ , as Poirot would call it.

“That letter which looks like a ‘b’ is actually pronounced like a ‘v’,” Soren said, lowering a net into the waves below. “It’s the same in German, and other similar languages.”

“Va-tek-tiv,” Colin said. “Tek-tiv… oh, they wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t what?”

“Do you think the name of the ship is Greek for ‘detective’?”

Soren snorted. “I wouldn’t be surprised, seeing who’s in cargo.”

“You’ve seen her as well?” Colin said. “The, uh, the girl who’s on the news? Nancy Drew, the teenage sleuth.”

“She’s not a teenager anymore,” Soren said. “Nearly twenty-one, I think.”

“She was a teenager when I met her,” Colin replied. He trotted down the steps, and watched as other men helped Soren secure the net to the ship. “I wish we’d dock somewhere and get other food. We need more potatoes for proper fish and chips. Oh, and if only we could have the fish _crumbed_. Or beer-battered, there’s a thought.”

“You’ve met her?” Soren asked.

“Hmm?”

“Nancy.”

“Oh, uh, yes. In Venice. We were staying at the same place.”

“Did she hand you over to the law, too?” Soren asked. Colin raised his eyebrows.

“You as well?” he said, choosing misdirection over honesty.

“I tried to steal a chest of old treasure,” Soren replied. “What did you do?”

“Art theft.”

Soren nodded, continuing to stare at the waves, and occasionally tug at the net. Colin clapped him on the shoulder, and decided to walk further along the deck. He had very little to do, having made the mistake of leaving his laptop behind. He’d already read the books in his possession, and made the high score in all the games on his phone, and there was nothing else to do. Most of the people on board were scary Greek men who seemed to work for Thanos, or demented creeps like Dwayne.

For example, he’d met someone whose name was known to him yesterday. Taylor Sinclair, a dealer in illegal antiquities, who Nancy had apparently put behind bars when she was left in charge of a museum in Washington D.C. A man with an obnoxious voice and hideous taste in ties. He was often on the phone starting up connections which had fallen apart when his smuggling ring was exposed.

Another man with shipping experience, and more familiar with cargo ships than Soren, was Andy Jason. He had smuggling contacts as well, and had already found treasure under the sea before. His presence made Colin suspect that the aim was to find an old shipwreck. But it was possible he had a connection to Nancy, another villain apprehended due to her sleuthing.

Then there was the man in charge of cooking, who generally bossed everyone else and muttered about unappreciative sailors. A bald guy with a high-pitched voice and the nickname Shorty. Colin hoped it was a nickname, because what parent in their right mind would call their child Shorty? He demanded that when working, his underlings call him Chef Thurmond. Did Nancy know him? Was Colin even allowed to ask that? Although if Shorty did have a grudge against Nancy, it would explain why Dwayne needed someone to keep an eye on her food. They seemed to need her, and poisoning her would defeat the purpose of having her on board.

“Yes, Ms. Girard, but we need her alive,” Dwayne was saying to someone over the phone. Girard was that wealthy tycoon. Didn’t his daughter… commit a crime?

So it’s possible that the quintessential celebrity brat had been uncovered by Nancy, and was now helping to fund this expedition to unknown territory, assuming she even had any money. There was no other reason for her to be involved, unless she also had experience with art theft or treasure-hunting. Colin suspected that she lacked the brains for such endeavours, but he’d met many stupider people in his line of work. Or people who appeared stupid, but were quite devious. Margherita Faubourg came to mind. She’d blackmailed Colin into working for her for free. At least he’d had the satisfaction of buying the best materials, rather than the cheapest, and leaving her to foot the bill. It served the cheapskate and philistine right.

It was little wonder Colin preferred to hang around Soren. He was the least unhinged out of any of the crew on the ship, aside from Colin himself. He could hardly spend all his free time downstairs, keeping an eye on Nancy. Quite aside from appearing to be a stalker, it would also look extremely suspicious.

“Look, you and Myers just find out whatever you can,” Dwayne said. Colin continued to lean against the wall, fanning himself and trying to look ill so no one would question him. “Neither of you have a criminal record. Good work on what you’ve found so far, but I sent you that list for a reason. The information Drew wants, the information Drew _gets_. Remember, you offered to help in any way you can. If only you were still with that idiot Balducci… yes, I _know_ he broke up with you, you don’t have… no, don’t scream it at me…” There was a loud sigh. “You really need to get over it, Girard, or you’ll never make an effective criminal.”

Colin heard footsteps, and they sounded a bit too heavy, like Thanos or Shorty, so he decided that retreating to read in his bunk was the best manoeuvre.

 

“Ha! I’m done, Nancy!”

Nancy leapt up, and the blood rush around her under-nourished body so quickly that she felt dizzy, and her feet tingled with pins and needles. She leaned against the door.

“That’s great, Henrik,” she said. “What can you conclude from the translation?”

“I’ll let you read it yourself, but what it boils down to is that Marcos de Niza was torn between maintaining the truth, due to his vows, and trying to please the gold-hunters who expected to find a large amount of untapped wealth in America. Not that they called it America, and they had no idea of the size of the land. Spain is much smaller, and while they were expecting larger cities than Mexico, Friar Marcos was basically running on legends. He was ambiguous but encouraging in his report. What I should like to know is what he’d been doing in America before his travels to Cibola, or rather the place that he found.”

“Where the Zuni Indians lived,” Nancy said.

“Indeed.”

“He worked in… Guatemala, I think. I’ll have to check the information again. But I think he’d already done some exploration in Sonora. He was sent North to find out whether the rumours about gold were true.”

“Yes,” Henrik said. “The greed of human beings is truly astounding. They didn’t care who they hurt, or what knowledge they uncovered, as long as they found gold and gem stones. Finite wealth which didn’t belong to them. Mining weakens the earth, which is why there are so many cave-ins. When will people learn?”

“Never, I suspect,” Nancy said.

“I hope they hurry up,” he said. “I’ve checked the maps, comparing that of El Toro with the expedition Coronado and de Niza took, and the locations do appear to be different. What does that tell you?”

“That… someone was really bad at making maps?”

He chuckled. “Aside from that, Nancy.”

“That El Toro found a different place he believed to be the true Cibola. It might even have been the place people called Quivera.”

“The one that the Turk told them about,” Henrik said. “You could be right, except that the location does not match with El Toro’s map, either.”

“I think the best clue we have is the relative position to that lake, if it _is_ Salt Lake, and the mountains or valleys marked on the map. Have they brought maps of the terrain of the United States yet?”

“Judging by their position, the mountains could be the Rockies. They extend a fair way down the country. I’m sure you’d be better at internet research than I am, Nancy. I’ll leave the maps to you. See if you can find the closest town to the location. The problem will be if rock-falls or flooding have covered the city El Toro found. Or if it was discovered in the intervening years, and torn apart by thieves.”

“I don’t want them to loot treasure that isn’t theirs,” Nancy said. “But I’m also aware that our lives are on the line.”

“I know, Nancy,” Henrik said. “I don’t like it either. We must pray for a miracle.”

 

Beatrice let the conversation of her fellow hostages wash over her as she maintained her snores. They were false, of course. If anyone paid attention, they would know that she did not snore at all while she slept. She might breathe loudly sometimes, but that was only when she slept on her back, and she always woke with a dry mouth, so she would _know_ if she snored.

But it was a convenient way to keep those miscreants away from her cell for anything other than mealtimes. She had work to do.

Frannie and Harold really had to learn how to think outside of the box. Or perhaps Beatrice was the only one with screws to hold her cot frame together? Perhaps she was considered harmless compared to the man and the girl? Well, they hadn’t encountered anyone like Beatrice Hotchkiss before. If they hadn’t learnt after she tried to claw their eyes out, they would never learn.

Thank goodness Charleena had recommended that Beatrice get professional manicures. Much better for the woman constantly typing or handwriting, or even handling old documents. Ragged nails were the very devil to historical documents, but neatly trimmed talons were both elegant and practical. And yes, the polish had chipped by now, and raggedness had set in, but at least Beatrice had extracted three of the screws so far, after much effort and application of greasy soup to ease the way.

Of course the end of a tube of toothpaste would have been better. But when Beatrice had fallen back on her childhood habit of biting her nails under stress, she had realised that they were… well, as tough as nails, and thus even better than toothpaste. She still _wanted_ to be able to brush her poor old teeth, though. But she would make do with what she could get, for the time being. And ensure that the culprits received a taste of their own medicine when _they_ were the ones locked up after this.

Wouldn’t their captors get a nasty shock one day when Beatrice stuck a few metal screws into them, instead of the end of a toothbrush? Honestly, what kind of morons thought a plastic toothbrush could do any kind of damage?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably a lot, Hotchkiss, if you were aiming for the eyes. Always aim for the eyes when defending yourselves from miscreants.
> 
> Anyway, more character references for you, but not all of them will make it into the tags. Only if they actually appear and have some speech. For that matter, I should’ve tagged Jenna Ravencraft for the ‘Midnight in Salem’ chapter. Did I do that? Does it really matter?
> 
> Please review!


	10. Another Connection is Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The detective work outside of the ship continues, with everyone chipping in where they can. It hasn't been a week yet, and there's still a long way to go, but they'll get there.

“Ugh, come _on_ , Ruth,” Deirdre muttered, zooming in and out of the picture fruitlessly.

“What’s the matter?” Ned asked.

“It’s this stupid… whatever she’s carved into the pipe. I guess it’s an awkward position, but I don’t understand the groupings. The lines aren’t straight, and seriously, did they _not_ have lanterns back in the nineteenth century? I’m pretty sure the light bulb was invented then, so they must’ve had lanterns.”

“So how did you like the tour?” he said.

“Pretty much the same stuff but without the theatrics,” she said. “And I think the guy was making up half of what he said. But at least he was interesting, and not… tacky. But this girl talked to me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. I’m more surprised that guys didn’t talk to you.”

“Oh, they did, but I ignored them,” Deirdre said. “It was definitely a woman that kid saw, and no guy I’ve seen around here could pass for a ghostly-looking woman. Anyway, she asked if I was Deirdre Shannon. I _know_ , I know I should’ve said no, but she could’ve found out anyway, and I was surprised, so I said yes.”

“It could happen to anyone,” Ned pointed out. Deirdre was pretty sure it wouldn’t happen to Nancy, any of the times she was smart enough to use an alias. But she didn’t say that. It was now five-and-a-half days since the abduction, and Ned didn’t like to be reminded that people in River Heights weren’t keeping either of them up-to-date. His parents weren’t exactly giving him a hard time, but Deirdre’s were. They’d even said that if Deirdre hadn’t split up Nancy and Ned – which _so_ wasn’t the case, by the way – that Nancy wouldn’t have been so distracted or self-destructive.

Uh, _hello_. Nancy was self-destructive before the break-up, the break-up which took place after she got back from Germany, but before the Clues Challenge. Brenda Carlton had tried to use it against Nancy, saying that she’d clearly lost it after having her heart broken. Like Nancy had even cared enough about Ned to be broken-hearted when they called it quits.

“She asked me if I was from River Heights, and knew Nancy Drew. I said I didn’t know Nancy, because I _don’t_ want to be drawn into conversations about her. It’s bad enough hearing about it from my parents, I don’t need complete strangers either judging me or consoling me.”

“Understandable.”

“So then she says that her aunt met Nancy on a case once, and asked if I was a detective, too. I said I was friends with Mei, and then she shut up. So I don’t know whether she thinks Mei is a witch as well, or whether she’s got something to do with the fire and the accusations…” She sighed, and ran fingers through her hair, while tilting her laptop screen with her other hand. “It was a Parris who was involved with witchcraft accusations long ago. Maybe someone’s out to get revenge for a fallen ancestor? Ugh, even _more_ research. If only Ruth Hathorne had seen this coming, and had a way of pointing out whodunit. Then at least solving the puzzles would be relevant.”

“Don’t give up on it,” Ned said. “Mei needs you. Do you want me to put you in contact with the Hardy Boys? I’m sure they could use something to take their minds off Nancy, especially Frank.”

“Thanks, sweetie, but I can do this. I just… need more time. I’m thinking Mei should come and stay here for awhile, where I can keep an eye on her.”

“Her sister’s pretty protective, right?”

“Not as much as Mei’s parents,” Deirdre said. “Teegan understands independence.”

“But she’d still look out for her sister.”

“I don’t know. I mean, we all like her. You’ve met Teegan. You liked her, didn’t you?”

“She seems nice,” he said.

“And of course Teegan’s trying to get her business started. She even created an app to go with her store, so people can try on outfits before they even step inside. It’s been a struggle, especially since their parents are always looking after Mei, even when she doesn’t need it. And sometimes Teegan loses her temper with them because they just _ignore_ her in favour of somebody else!”

Ned cleared his throat, and Deirdre unclenched her hands before she could punch her laptop screen. She closed her eyes and breathed in and out, letting the oxygen get back to her brain.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “You don’t wanna hear this.”

“I’m concerned about you, that’s all,” Ned replied. “Maybe if you copied down the symbols from the pipe with your own hand, on a piece of paper, you’ll be able to make more sense of them. You said that Ruth Hathorne was Nathanial Hawthorne’s aunt, and that she was proud of his writing. She also died before _The Scarlet Letter_ or _The House of Seven Gables_ could be published. Could any of his earlier stories have a connection to the symbols?”

“That’s what I was thinking, but I was more caught up in the actual plots and characters than any symbolism,” Deirdre said. She looked more closely at one of the images, and frowned. “This… kind of looks like a bowl. I thought it was something like crumbs being poured in, but maybe it’s something exploding out. Like water. A fountain?” She frowned. “I can’t remember a fountain. There’s a garden in one of the stories, but water… oh. Oh!” Her eyes widened. “The Fountain of Youth in… in the experiment one, I think.” She grabbed one of the Hawthorne books, flipped through, but couldn’t find it. She tried the other, and found the right story. “Below it is written YEARS. Not YEAR, like the year he wrote this. _Years_. Fountain of Youth. Let me just…”

She skimmed the text of the tale, and came to the part where the scientist explained that he’d kept one rose alive for fifty-five years.

“Fifty-five!” she cried out. “That’s it! That’s what that clue means. Fifty-five. But fifty-five _what_?”

“Seems like you have to decode the rest of it,” Ned said, and she saw him grinning at her from the couch, where he was working on an assignment away from the insanity of chicken-sitting. Deirdre rushed over, kissed Ned, and then ran back to her laptop with renewed eagerness.

 

Tino scowled, and hung up.

“They found the third car,” he said. Everyone’s attention was immediately on him, but he refrained from preening under it. “Some environmentalist type found what they thought was an oil spill, only to realise that it was bubbling up from beneath. They called the authorities, who dredged the water and found a car. It’s kinda rusted after nearly six days underwater, but it otherwise matches the description, and could’ve been headed that way.”

“Where was it?” Carson asked.

“It’d been driven off a harbour. Police are examining the tracks they found. It hasn’t rained recently, so nothing’s been washed away, but it also means the car was driven – or pushed – over dry dirt, not mud, so the tracks aren’t deep. They promised to call if they found out anything else.”

“Thanks,” Fenton said.

“I was seconded there for awhile, when I was still in uniform. Some of the guys remembered me, and they were happy to help out when I told `em why I was calling.”

“So we’re looking for a boat,” Alexei said. “Something big enough to hold Nancy captive, and maybe some other people, too.”

“Last time Nancy was involved with a ship it was in Iceland,” Bess said.

“Yeah, but a sailing should would be kind of conspicuous,” George said. “And the people who owned it were travelling the world, remember? Plus, they’d have no reason to kidnap Nancy.”

“But the culprit was just given community service,” Alexei said, sitting up straight in his chair. “Someone should contact Iceland.”

“We’ve got contacts there,” Joe said.

“Plus there was the American girl who helped Nancy with the lighthouse, or Nancy helped her or something,” George said. “Alex something.”

“Alex Trang,” Bess said, finding her name in the case notes. “I wonder if she’s still over there, or if she’s back in America?”

“She had a blog,” Frank said.

“Yes, all about shipping facts,” Hannah said. “I’ll check it right now. We’ve had another email from the embassy in Washington, that Alejandro boy. And Eloise said that her network of librarians alerted her to someone checking out information on explorers, the same ones Alejandro mentioned. Oh, here’s one from Charleena Purcell.” She opened the email. “She says she wants to visit River Heights, and has booked two rooms, one for her and one for her assistant. They’d like to visit us sometime, and share information. Beatrice Hotchkiss has been in contact, and Charleena thinks she may be being held hostage with Nancy.”

“Tell her we’d be happy to see her,” Carson said. “And don’t forget to check that blog while you’re on there.”

Hannah nodded. After she had gathered herself together, she’d wanted to prove useful to the detectives gathering in the house every day. She could do more than just cook and clean, and wanted to show it. The Marvins and Faynes were wonderful about helping to clean, and all the neighbours were constantly bringing around food, so Hannah’s duties were lighter than usual. She needed _something_ to do.

There was no indication on the blog as to whether Alex Trang had finished her internship in Iceland yet, so Hannah sent an email asking whether she could help. The young lady had Tweeted in support of Nancy, same as most other people, even the GDiF. The image from Twitter was on the first page of her blog. It gave Hannah a warm feeling in her heart to know that so many people cared about the girl she thought of as a daughter.

“Aunt Bet would _love_ to meet Charleena Purcell again,” Bess said. “But they’ll be preparing for the rodeo.”

“They’re not _actually_ participating, Bess,” George said, smiling. “Just going along to support the others.”

“Hey, sometimes I need the image of Uncle Ed barrel-racing to… to help, okay?”

George rubbed her shoulder. “Okay.”

 

Sonny usually knew exactly where he had to go next. Whether it was because he was descended from the Annunaki, or just knew that humans had a higher purpose or ability they’d never tapped, he didn’t know. But he could know things, be places before any of his people arrived. That was how he found them. He just knew who’d be relevant, and arranged to find them at the right time.

He’d been doodling idly, like the ghost writing John Grey used to talk about when Sonny took his tour course. What could he say, he wanted to know whether the accused witches of Salem were actually aliens or alien descendents. Instead they were boring old humans who’d been persecuted by ignorant Puritans. You live and learn. Or die and learn.

His idle drawings resembled a flat landscape, a couple of cacti, and what could’ve been a horse or something. Far away from the ships he’d been drawing since… before Nancy’s disappearance. Before Henrik van der Hune or Beatrice Hotchkiss had been kidnapped, either.

(And he really had to get around to telling both of _them_ that they were members of SPIED, too. The professor might buy it; Henrik never would. But Sonny would win him over, like always.)

The ships of the desert were camels, right? Ships plus desert equalled camels. But… no, that didn’t feel right. A desert with water in it? An oasis? Or maybe his mind was just jumping all over the place, and the drawings weren’t related.

Sonny always went back for his notebooks, when they were no longer needed. Again, he didn’t know how it happened; it was one of those things he’d grown up with, which his mother never liked to discuss. But the one comic he’d gone back for, and hadn’t found, was in Iceland. And he knew exactly what he’d drawn.

He looked down, and realised that he’d drawn Cyber Nancy in the middle of the desert, with mountains behind her. Sonny sighed. He had to get over this already. It was interfering with his work. The abduction brought her forward in his mind even more than usual. He was supposed to be working on the newest batch of pamphlets for SPIED, to drop them in strategic places like university campuses and sci-fi conventions. Anywhere he could pick up likely followers.

“I hope they find you soon, Nancy,” he said, pushing the drawing aside. He’d even drawn a princess veil on Cyber Nancy. “I can’t work like this.”

No, that’s not the only reason he wanted her recovered safely. But that was something he was keeping secret for as long as he could.

(That comic might’ve revealed too much, though. He hoped someone had thrown it out, and that Nancy hadn’t… you know… _read_ it. Or thought too much about it.)

‘Space Oddity’ began playing on his cell phone, and Sonny reached for it absent-mindedly, trying to concentrate on the placement of his drawings in the pamphlet.

“SPIED Headquarters, this is Sonny Joon,” he said.

“I’m on my way to your office. I’ve got the latest issue of _Weird Wacky World_. You’ll want to read it, trust me.”

“Who is this?”

An irritated sigh. “Jamila.”

“Oh, hey, Jamila. Why, what’s up?”

“What do you recall about a man named Taylor Sinclair?”

“Blindingly awful ties,” Sonny said. “Why?”

“He might be involved. With Nancy’s abduction.”

Sonny sat up straight.

“Right,” he said. “I know who we need to call. But bring the magazine first.”

“Yes, Sonny.”

 

Poppy Dada was working on her latest creation. She’d smeared orange and pink first, in her usual arcing style. She hated having to have a ‘style’, but if it mean people saw one of her works of art and identified it as one of hers… that was pretty nice.

Not that she’d ever _admit_ that or anything.

She’d returned to using handprints, something she’d always associated with Nancy Drew, and Poppy’s family being involved with opening some kind of tomb. Poppy was more interested in the boost of inspiration she’d had at the time, even going so far as to tell Taylor Sinclair about it. Ugh, that guy always gave her the creeps on _so_ many levels, but knowing that he’d been behind a serious artefact smuggling ring… that took her disgust to a whole new level.

Anyway, back to her art. She thought red hands would be too gory, and she’d gone through that phase anyhow. She wanted nice colours. Sunny, bright colours, to give everyone a burst of optimism. Her parents talked about Nancy’s possible fate in hushed voices – like Poppy even _needed_ protecting – and it hadn’t even been a week already. What was with suspecting the worst?

In the end, she settled for pressing her fingers, and just her fingers, in lines on the canvas. Starting with colours close to the base coats she’d used, but working her way up darker, until the name spelled out in fingerprints was just visible.

NANCY DREW

Not exactly subtle, and this one wouldn’t be for sale. Not unless Poppy was selling it to Nancy or her family. But she’d promised to do some kind of tribute, even if it was just a promise she’d made to herself.

After that, Poppy attached some lucky Chinese coins with the tacky substance she used to hold the additions in place. It was supposed to be temporary, so the substance was sort of like an invisible Blu Tack that kept going. It was Poppy’s own invention, and she hadn’t shared the secrets of its manufacture with anybody.

Her phone buzzed, and she sighed. Her hands were still crusted with mostly-dried paint, but the tacky gel was all over them. She used the handle of a clean paintbrush to hit the answer button and speaker phone.

“Poppy Dada,” she said. “Who is it?”

“Hi, Poppy! I’m Sonny Joon. I worked in Washington—”

“I remember you,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “What’s this about?”

“We’re collecting information on a former art dealer we all knew. He’s out of jail, and no one knows where he is. But he may know something of the whereabouts of a certain detective we _also_ all know.”

Poppy dropped the paintbrush.

“I’m all ears,” she said.

Maybe one of Sonny Joon’s crazy ideas wouldn’t turn out to be so crazy after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, getting even more characters involved. It’s not going to end there. We’ll get more people going along, more connections between clues made, and I’ll try to work out something for the mystery in Salem. Originally I considered having Tino and Deirdre be an established couple, or nearly an established couple, but then I wanted a reason for Ned and Nancy not to get back together. Deirdre was the only viable candidate who wouldn’t make things extremely awkward, like if he dated Bess or George instead.
> 
> Anyway. Just a bit of trivia for you.
> 
> Please review, folks!


	11. Bad News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy's instincts are telling her one thing, and Dwayne's telling her another.
> 
> Dagny doesn't know why she's in River Heights, but she makes contact with someone super-grateful to hear from her.

Henrik was right, Nancy had been disappointed to find out. There was no treasure, and Marcos de Niza had told the conquistadors what they wanted to hear, partly out of misinformation. But also, Nancy guessed, because he felt that either the Spanish would find treasure in that area, and just needed a reason to look, or he felt that he’d be punished for giving them information they wouldn’t like.

It was now over a week since she’d been kidnapped by Dwayne and Thanos, and not yet a week since she’d asked for more information. Now she was regretting it, and only hoped that El Toro either found what they’d been looking for, or someone else had left behind treasure in the twenty-year gap between Coronado’s expedition and El Toro’s exploration.

She’d done what research she could, until she ran across a random reference to journals Fray Marcos had kept in later life. He could’ve been writing his memoirs or autobiography, maybe to clear his name or simply as a record. When Nancy mentioned this reference to Dwayne, his eyes had lit up. It may not have had anything to do with El Toro, but any extra information they could find had to be welcome. It kept the hostages safe a little bit longer.

This morning, Dwayne had brought news with breakfast. Someone working for him on the outside – someone female, since he almost said ‘she’ – had travelled to the churches where Marcos had worked and planned to search for his diary. Nancy suggested that a museum might allow a viewing, if they had his records, and that a portable scanner would probably do.

“This is a forte for… them,” Dwayne said. “See what you can find on El Toro. Don’t keep focussing on earlier, _unsuccessful_ expeditions, Nancy. We’re following this map, no one else’s.”

Nancy had hit a dead end with El Toro, so she opened a new internet tab to give her brain a break. On a whim, she looked up other legendary treasures in the area of Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico, and Utah. She could cross off _one_ Arizona treasure, at least.

If only their trail led anywhere near Shadow Ranch. If she saw any familiar trails, she could have tried to separate Henrik and Hotchkiss from the rest of the group and sent them towards Mary Yazzie’s shop or the ranch, and they could’ve sent for help. It would be nice to see some of those familiar places again, see the Rawleys. Make sure there were no more phantom horses running around…

Montezuma.

“Professor Hotchkiss?” Nancy asked, heading for the door. It was locked, as usual, but her guard still stiffened, and tightened his grip around his gun.

“Yes, Fanny?”

Huh. Nancy thought she’d been snoring until then.

“That princess you told us about,” she said. “Who was her father?”

“Moctezuma – or Montezuma, if you prefer – the second.”

Nancy glanced back at the computer screen.

“I just read something about his missing treasure,” she said. “What can you tell me about that, professor?”

“That? Oh, a load of nonsense. It’s romantic to think that the treasure went _missing_ , but whatever treasure he’d had would have eventually been plundered by the men who took over his land. Some of his things might have been inherited by his children or wives, but I doubt very much that there’s a legendary hoard stashed away, waiting to be found. You may be able to find diaries, skulls, and tombs, my dear…”

“Among other things.”

“But legendary treasure is just that. Legendary! It’s mythical, Nancy.”

“Plenty of missing relics turn up,” Henrik said. “Not always in the right place, but don’t lose heart. We’re here to _find_ legendary treasure, Hotchkiss. Remember that.”

“Thomas Penfield wrote that there was no evidence—”

“What kind of treasure would it have been, if it was real?” Nancy asked, trying to head off a potential argument between the two academics. “There must be rumours.”

“Oh, it would be the usual thing,” Hotchkiss said. “Gold, jewellery, artwork. Currency back then, but historical artefacts to us these days. If such a haul existed – and as a king, Moctezuma the Second would have had a great deal of wealth – it was either stowed away in the treasury or stolen by whoever could get their hands on it.”

“It’d be nice if at least some of it was taken by someone with good intentions, who hid it someplace safe,” Nancy said.

“Most of the golden statues made by the natives were melted down to produce coins, Francy. There wouldn’t be much of value left after that.”

Nancy returned to the computer. But she still couldn’t focus on El Toro. Her instincts were leading her somewhere else.

“Henrik.”

“What have you found, Nancy?”

“I’m puzzled,” she said.

“What’s the trouble?” She heard him stand up in his cell and approach the door. She knew all the sounds like that by now.

“When Fray Marcos first saw Hawikuh, which he claimed to be Cibola, he said that the buildings were bright like gold. But the time of day he found the place, and his position _to_ the village he’d found, would suggest that it wasn’t the sun shining on the rocks. What could’ve been dazzling him? Was it the bits of turquoise?”

“You read the translation, Nancy. He claimed that the buildings looked like they were made of gold.”

“But… but they were made of red brick.”

“Which is equally baffling, because the natives didn’t have the equipment to dig down far enough to find red soil, not without unnecessary toil. They would have made bricks from ordinary surface mud, and would have had no way of dying them red. Unless they used beets, or some other vegetable that produces sufficient red colouring for the task.”

“Why would they rebuild entire multi-storey buildings out of _red_ bricks in the short amount of time between Marcos’s first expedition and his visit there with Coronado?”

“Perhaps they painted the bricks red, Nancy.”

“Seems like a waste of vegetable-based dye, when they could’ve used it for art,” Nancy said.

“They certainly understood the concept of art, on some level,” Henrik said. “Not in the way they see it today, but they had aesthetic appreciation, as so many humans do. Unless they painted the bricks as a sign or a warning. Perhaps an omen against bad luck, like the Israelites did in the Bible, to protect their first born sons.”

“What did _they_ use for paint?”

“Blood. Not human blood, of course.”

Nancy shivered. Then a memory from her research cropped up, and she felt sick.

“The Zuni Indians in Hawikuh killed Estavenico, Fray Marcos’s guide to Cibola,” she said. “A few other slaves died, as well. What if it was their blood used as paint, as a warning to the conquistadors?”

“Nancy, I recommend you don’t think about it, or you’ll have nightmares.”

“But, Henrik, what if—”

“ _Don’t_ , Nancy. It’s no good dwelling on those aspects of the past. We have to find this treasure, and that will be it. This can all be behind us. We’ll fulfil our end of the bargain… with any luck. Or goodness knows what they’ll do to us.”

“Don’t think about it, Henrik, or you’ll have nightmares,” she said dryly.

 

Dagny Silva paced back and forth. This wasn’t the usual itchiness she got with staying in one place for too long. This was impatience. She was staying in a bed and breakfast in a backwater town called River Heights, and was questioning whether she should even be there. What right did she have?

And what right did _Nancy_ have, getting under her skin like this? Dagny was doing just fine, moving past the divorce and getting over Alicia. Or trying to. Then Nancy showed up, at Moira’s recommendation, and Dagny’s determination not to have friends anymore was thrown out the window. She didn’t even have to force herself to get over her not-so-lifey life partner, because there Nancy was, breaking down her barriers one intrusive question and nice comment at a time. Then she’d recovered the treasure, and Dagny had split with her half before Nancy could leave first.

Never mind that Soren texted her once, and told her she’d taken the coward’s way out; as an almost-convicted criminal, he had no say in how other people should run their lives. He should stick to festivals, and keep his nose out of her business.

She’d seen on the news that Nancy was in trouble, abducted by people bold enough to do it in broad daylight. Bold or desperate. Which meant they either had the confidence to pull it off, and thus the skill and experience, or they were careless because they had nothing to lose.

Dagny didn’t know which possibility scared her more.

She’d had to wrap up her current treasure hunt, or at least her part in it. A reliable team was taking care of it, and since one of the things they’d uncovered had made a certain group of people very happy, she was allowed back in the States. She was probably being watched, suspected it from the start. But she’d _had_ to return. And she’d remembered where Nancy said she’d come from. She remembered every conversation they’d had, even the tense silence as they’d motored back to the mainland from the lighthouse.

So now she was in River Heights, and she was pretty sure she’d seen Charleena Purcell downstairs with some nervous-looking guy. Her assistant? Likely. They’d been talking about a phone call, a second one. Dagny had retreated to her room after she’d heard the name ‘Drew’ mentioned.

_“Oh… hey, Drew.”_

Nancy’s incredulous look had turned to relief. Did she think she was about to be attacked by someone, or was she just relieved that Dagny was safe?

No. She couldn’t go down that road, or she’d run around in circles. Besides, what were the odds that Nancy could even think about Dagny in that way? Slim to none. It was better to protect her heart… her- _self_. Not her heart. That didn’t need protecting, not since Alicia decided that Dagny’s constant travelling wasn’t for her. Like she couldn’t have thought of that before they got married?

Still, Dagny felt drawn to the outside. Not the outdoors as such, or River Heights in general. Not her kind of place at all. But she knew she needed to find Nancy’s place, see her dad and her friends and offer any help she could. So she grabbed her bag, shoved her room key inside, and took off downstairs.

She didn’t ask directions to the Drew residence; people in a town like this would assume she was the press, and probably close ranks. She had to use stealth…

And the phone book in the lobby.

“Gotcha,” she murmured, smiling when she found the address. She entered it into the GPS on her phone, found that the place wasn’t all that far away, and decided that she could walk. If there was even a public transport system in this place, aside from the train station, it wouldn’t be reliable. Besides, Dagny was so full of nervous energy that she needed to work it off.

Well, when she arrived at the house she saw that she had the right place. There were numerous cars parked outside, and the sound of many voices talking over each other coming from inside. Dagny knocked before she could second-guess herself, having made the journey this far. A young guy opened the door, and stared at her.

“Can I _help_ you?” he asked slowly.

“I’m Dagny. Is this Nancy Drew’s house?”

“Oh, Dagny Silva,” he said. “Hi, I’m Joe Hardy, one of Nancy’s friends. What brings you here?”

“Look, I don’t make friends, but… I consider Nancy to be one. My only one. We were kind of introduced by a mutual acquaintance, Moira Chisholm.”

“She was friends with Nancy’s mother,” Joe said.

“Oh. Right. Nancy told me her mother was… yeah.” Dagny shuffled awkwardly on the doorstep. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Joe, let her in!” someone called. “Where are your manners?”

“And here I was, thinking we had to be suspicious of people,” Joe said, rolling his eyes, but stepping back. “Come on in, Dagny. Iceland, right? The treasure hunter?”

“That’s right,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously.

“We’ve gone through all of Nancy’s case files.”

“Oh.” Dagny felt the heat rising on her cheeks. “What did she say about me?”

“That you were nice, but closed-off, and you’d been through a divorce,” Joe said, leading her through to a way less domestic scene than Dagny had envisaged.

“That’s right,” she said, distracted. Then his words registered. “I mean, aside from the nice part. I can’t believe anyone says that about me.”

“Nancy sees the good in everyone,” an older woman said. “Hello, Dagny. I’m Hannah Gruen.”

“You’re the housekeeper who basically raised her, aren’t you?”

Despite the way Dagny had worded it, Hannah gave her a beaming smile.

“That’s right,” she said. “Now, you said you wanted to help?”

“I’ve been out of the loop, but I got back to America as soon as I could—”

“I thought you had to escape for some reason,” Joe said.

“A reprieve, thankfully. That was in the case file, too?”

“Yep.”

“Look, I just wanted to see if I could help.”

“A treasure hunter _could_ be of some use,” another woman said. Charleena Purcell, instantly recognisable. “Aren’t you staying at the same B and B as us?”

“Yes,” Dagny said. “There weren’t many places to choose from.”

“It’s a small town, but it’s ours, and it’s all we need,” a blonde girl said.

“It’s a nice place, Bess,” a man reassured her. She looked up at him, blushing, and then back down at the table, which was strewn with papers.

“I know a lot about treasure, that’s for sure,” Dagny said. “And I’ve got contacts all over the place. Someone’s bound to have heard something.”

“Well, you sit down, Joe will introduce you to everyone, and you can see what we’ve been working on,” Hannah said, ushering Dagny to a dining chair.

“Has there been a ransom demand?” Dagny asked.

“No,” a dark-haired boy said. “And we don’t think there will be.”

“Frank’s right,” Joe said. “The theory we’re working on is that Nancy was kidnapped because of her treasure-finding abilities. We’re pretty sure we’ve narrowed down the possible treasures and the region, but if you can think of anything else we’d really appreciate it. The more places we can station people, the better chance we have of getting Nancy back.”

“And Beatrice Hotchkiss,” Charleena said. “As well as that glyph specialist.”

“Henrik van der Hune,” Bess said. “They’re both missing, and could be being held with Nancy.”

“Hey, we were going to ask about Iceland,” Frank said, sitting up. “But since you’re here, maybe you could help? The guy who tried to steal treasure, Soren…”

“What about him?” Dagny asked. “Do you need his phone number? I still have it somewhere. I know I should get rid of it, but we… we were friends, even though he tried to cheat me out of the treasure and kill my business partner. Or trap him for a very long time in the ice.”

“He didn’t go to jail,” Joe said.

“No. Nancy asked for mercy on his behalf. He’d had a pretty bad time of it in Skipbrot. I hated being there for a short time; growing up with that kind of xenophobic animosity must’ve been… It’s no wonder he cracked eventually. I’m kinda surprised it didn’t happen sooner, but he lived in the States for awhile. That’s where we met, actually. He told me about the treasure, which is why I went out there in the first place.”

“The point is, we’re trying to track down people who Nancy’s crossed in the past, to find whoever might be involved. Some people have disappeared off the radar recently, and Soren Bergursson is one of them.”

Dagny frowned. “Do you want me to call him? It might be the middle of the night wherever he is, but it’s worth a try.”

“That would be _great_ ,” Frank said.

Dagny walked a little ways from the group, and dialled Soren’s number. He answered after a few rings.

“Dagny!” he said, sounding delighted. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, Soren,” she said. “Listen, some people are wondering where you are—”

“And how are Elisabet and Magnus?”

“Uh… okay—”

“Yeah, I haven’t heard from them since they set sail. Where would they be right about now, do you know?”

“I don’t exactly carry an itinerary around,” she said. “Why?”

“Oh, just wondering,” he said. “Uh, my boss is watching me. I have to go. Call me again _soon_. I can’t wait to hear all your news. Bye. Oh, and find out _how_ they are.”

He hung up, and Dagny was left staring at her phone.

What was that about?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all know, and I certainly know where I’m going with this. The rest of you will just have to wait and see. Mwa-ha-ha-ha!
> 
> For I am evil. Occasionally.
> 
> Please review, folks! It makes the author happier if I know what people are enjoying about the fic.
> 
> Sorry for the slight break between chapters 9 and 10, by the way. I was fighting off a sore throat on Wednesday, then had a horrible day on Thursday. So writing was difficult. But I got back to it, so yay!


	12. Overseas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy has more friends than she realises, and they all want to help her. They're all trying to help her, in their own ways. Or worrying about her. Mostly doing both.
> 
> Their chance will come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mention of thoughts of self-harm at one point (Grigor’s part).

Moira was grateful for any information Carson passed to her. He and Nancy still hadn’t had a chance to visit, and Moira… she wasn’t confident that it would happen, even if… no, _when_ Nancy was recovered. Alive and unharmed. She needed to believe that the baby girl she’d known would be fine.

She poured herself more tea from the set Nancy had sent, to make up for the one she’d broken as a child. It should have felt wrong to use it without Nancy, but it made Moira feel closer to her, and she needed that reassurance at the moment.

Still, the scraps of information she received weren’t enough. Moira checked blogs constantly, refreshing the Stand With ND tag that Krolmeister had started. And my, didn’t Nancy rub shoulders with some big-wigs? No covert operations for her, not like Kate and Moira when they’d worked for Cathedral. That kind of life wasn’t for Nancy; she’d bull right into everything and everyone in her quest for information, instead of the subtlety Kate knew how to employ.

“Oh, Kate, I really hope you’re watchin’ over her,” Moira said.

Her mobile phone buzzed on the coffee table, and she eyed it warily. After a few seconds, the ringing stopped. Three rings. Then it started again, and she snapped it up quickly.

“Yes?” she said.

“Moira, it’s Alec.”

“Have you any news?” Moira asked urgently. “Any news about Nancy?”

“Not yet. Zoe’s still going through her contacts. One of them she can’t get hold of, a man named Colin, or Justin. He knew Nancy once, when she was on a case in Venice. Apparently he had a bit of a crush on her.”

“He’s not the only one, if I’m not mistaken,” Moira said, trying to contain a smirk.

“Yeah, Zoe’s really cut up about this.”

“You know I’m not just referring to her, dearie. What can I do for you?”

“Zoe’s still trying to get in touch with this Colin-or-Justin. All they know is that he disappeared off the grid a few days before Nancy went missing, and since it’d been at least a year since he met her, an’ they haven’t seen each other since, it’s unlikely they’ve run off together. He’s only been arrested for minor art theft before, and has no reason to harm Nancy. He wasn’t acting strangely beforehand, either.”

“It still sounds suspicious to me,” Moira said. “Where was he last seen?”

“I’d have to ask Zoe. She seems less interested in that and more interested in where he is right now. _Especially_ if he’s in the same place as Nancy. Some other people she knew from previous cases have also turned out to be missing.”

“Yes, a historian and an epigrapher. I’ve been in contact with Nancy’s father. Last I heard, several detectives have been working from their house to solve the case. I’d go over and offer my services, but I’m always being watched by Cathedral, and I doubt I’d be welcome anyhow.”

“They’re probably bein’ watched by Cathedral, too,” Alec said. “Is it true that they think Nancy’s got to find treasure for someone?”

“That’s the best theory they have,” she said. “A legendary city of gold. Cibola.”

“I think… wasn’t that the place they found in that Nicholas Cage film?” he said.

“I haven’t a clue.”

“Yeah, I saw it on an international flight once. The city turned out to be inside that place with the presidents’ faces. Mount something.”

“Mount Rushmore?”

“That’s the one.”

Moira glanced at her computer. The screensaver was a picture of Kate kissing baby Nancy on the head.

“I’ll have to look it up,” she said.

“It was all kinds of far-fetched, Moira,” he warned. “And I doubt it has any bearing on reality. I don’t know the ins and outs of Mount Rushmore, but if I’m sure of anything, I’m sure that it doesn’t hide a mythical land of gold.”

“Does anyone know where to start looking for this treasure?” Moira said. “If we could anticipate where she might be, people could be on the lookout.”

“I’m sure they’ve already thought of that,” Alec said. “As well as whoever’s got her hostage. They might threaten harm to her if anyone tries to stop them.”

“Looks like we’ll have to rely on Nancy’s abilities to get herself out of this mess safely,” she said. “I _hate_ not being able to do anything.”

“You’ve done enough,” he said. “Listen, Zoe’s signalling for me to hang up, so I’d better go. I’ll call you if I find out anything else. Don’t try to call me.”

“Alright,” she said. “Say hello to our friendly international spy for me, would you?”

“I will.”

 

Grigor didn’t mind being in solitary confinement. It was the safest place for him any given day. Only after he’d been let out of the hospital wing of prison, which was well-guarded. And really, it’s not like he lacked the imagination to create all kinds of imaginary friends to keep himself company.

Sometimes he got to hear about Niobe. There were probably supposed to be rules about that, since they’d been involved in the same art-smuggling attempt. She was doing well, creating her own style and selling the artwork that she painted from her jail cell. Apparently there was a market for that sort of thing. Who’d have thought?

Grigor would be happy to participate if the prison did a play, but there were too many things that could go wrong. It was dangerous enough for him in prison, where Thanos and other members of the Greek mafia had people on the inside. If he – God forbid – tried to _enjoy_ himself there’d probably be a falling light, a not-so-fake fake-knife, a gun loaded with real bullets instead of blanks… honestly, the fact that he’d made it this far, _alive_ , was more than he’d anticipated.

But being in solitary confinement, while it was safe, meant that he didn’t get to hear the news. He’d heard when Nancy had been abducted, but then he’d been put in the hospital wing by one of the heavies down the hall, and now that his broken arm was in a sling he couldn’t defend himself, so he’d been stashed away for his own safety. If he was allowed to go to the women’s prison instead, at least he could hang out with Niobe, and there’d be fewer people to attack him. Except maybe Xenia.

He hated meals. He hated yard time. He hated showers and the bathroom. Any time he left his single cell was an opportunity for someone to jump him.

He hadn’t heard anything about Nancy since then, and it was driving him crazy. His imaginary friends instead turned to demons that tormented him with all the horrible possibilities. Was she dead? Had she been found, but was in a coma? Had she been brutally assaulted in some way? He was nearly ready to bang his head against the wall repeatedly until the thoughts stopped coming.

“Please, give me _any_ news,” he whispered out the tiny window. “Come on.”

Finally, one of the nicer guards, clearly not in the pay of the mafia, relented by bringing a newspaper. It was all in Greek, and he wasn’t actually allowed to give it to Grigor. Technically he wasn’t allowed to speak to him.

“Is she okay?” Grigor asked. “Please, is there _anything_ about Nancy Drew?”

“The woman at the museum you worked for, she has spoken a few times about Miss Drew’s help in uncovering your forgery operation,” the guard said. “There is very little news from overseas. She has not yet been found, dead or alive.”

“Do you think that’s good or bad?”

The man shrugged. “It has not been confirmed that she is dead, so you can be happy about that.”

“And if she’s still alive, she has a greater chance of escaping,” Grigor said. “Thanks for telling me.”

“If you hear anything about her from the prisoners, you will tell me.”

“I doubt they’d say anything, but… do you think Thanos could be involved?”

“ _Anyone_ could be,” the guard said. “I heard that the abduction was executed well. It could be a professional job.”

“I’ll let you know if I hear anything, I _swear_. Sure, she’s the reason I’m behind bars. But she’s also the reason I’m still alive, for whatever that’s worth.” He raised his injured arm slightly. “Just make sure they keep me alive for long enough.”

The guard nodded, and left before anyone could notice that he’d been talking to Grigor. The prisoner relaxed back against the wall, and let out a steady breath.

Good. At least he knew a bit more. It wasn’t much, a scrap to a starving dog, but a starving dog will eat anything.

 

“The cold will be familiar to us,” Elisabet said, rubbing her arms as they continued to sail North. Tumi was in an adorable brown coat with fleecy lining. “Don’t you look warm? Go and play with your bone, Tumi.”

The collie bounded off along the deck, and Elisabet climbed the stairs to reach the wheel, where Magnus stood, looking out over the waves with a puzzled look on his face. Elisabet leaned against the back of the wheel, and tilted her head.

“What is it?” she asked. “You seem worried, Magnus. Is it about your book?”

“It’s Dagny,” he said. “I had a very strange call from her.”

“No more treasure hunts,” Elisabet said firmly. “You _promised_ me.”

“It had nothing to do with treasure,” he said. “It was about Soren.”

She covered her face with gloved hands.

“What has he done?” she asked.

“He is missing.”

“Missing?” She lowered her hands. “Soren is missing, did you say?”

“Well, he is not in Skipbrot,” Magnus said. “Dagny called him, and he was acting strangely. He asked about where we were, and could not talk for long.”

“Did she tell him?” Elisabet said, wrapping her arms around herself. It was not the chill in the air that made her shiver. She had been friends with Soren, and he had been the one behind Magnus’s disappearance. “Where we were?”

“She was not sure, and told him nothing,” he said. “She thinks he may know something about Nancy.”

“Nancy Drew? They have not found her yet?”

Magnus shook his head. “Dagny told me that Nancy’s family and friends believe her to be on a ship somewhere. With Soren’s knowledge and experience of sailing, he may be holding Nancy on a ship. But it makes no sense. He was grateful that she did not send him to jail.”

“She gave him the benefit of the doubt,” Elisabet said reluctantly. “Perhaps we should as well.”

“Do you think he hoped to contact us?”

“It is possible,” she said. “We should tell Dagny where we are, and where we are going. She can do what she wishes with the information. Gunnar knows our route, not that he would tell her. Not without asking us first.”

“I will call her back soon,” Magnus promised.

“No. I will do it now. If it helps to save Nancy, we must.” She squeezed Magnus’s hand on the wheel, and then retreated to the wheelhouse.

 

Yumi was glad to see Miwako and Rentaro together when they met her in the pachinko parlour in the city. She had been able to win a new comic and a phone charm so far. Now she had more charms than phone, jingling together in the pocket of her pink and white dress.

“The photo booth is working again,” she said. “Come on. I want a picture of all three of us to post on Twitter for Nancy.”

“I do not know whether Nancy would want a picture of me,” Rentaro said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “Ooh! New puzzles.”

“Nancy will not see it until they get her back,” Yumi said, shoving her sister and Rentaro into the booth ahead of her. “I’m sure she won’t care about who’s in the picture. Pretend you’re Takae, if you like. Our grandmother will not pose for a selfie, so someone needs to fill in.”

Rentaro blushed as he was squished between the two sisters, but mustered up a shy smile for the camera. Yumi understood why Miwako was reluctant to take Rentaro back, after he’d nearly caused the Ryokan Hiei to close with his fake haunting. But he was still Rentaro underneath all that, and he’d only wanted what was best for Miwako. It took Nancy to fix everything, and they were stronger as a family for her interference, even though it wasn’t wanted at the time. Even Yumi took time to warm up to her, but at least Nancy took bento seriously, which was a point in her favour.

After the picture was posted to Yumi’s Twitter, with the hash-tag Stand With ND and another message of support, they returned to the machines. Rentaro, being the nerd that he was, was working hard to win more puzzles to play. He was obsessed with nonograms, sudoku, and renograms. No wonder he liked building robotic cats.

“I am thinking of going to the States,” Rentaro said. Miwako nearly twisted the knob on the machine right off.

“What are you talking about, Rentaro?” she said. Yumi could listen and play at the same time, but she did sneak a look to watch her sister’s reaction. Rentaro stared ahead, pretending to concentrate on the game.

“I’ve always wanted to go to New York,” he said. “You do not need me… at the ryokan. I have a passport, and I have some money. I’ve been doing commissions for the same company that built the cat Suki is modelled on.” He bit his lip. “I did not tell you, but two weeks ago I was asked if I wanted a job on a ship. That isn’t what I want to do, and I wanted to help at the ryokan. But now I’m thinking I should have accepted. It was good money, and I think… I have the feeling…”

“What is it, Rentaro?” Miwako said, urging him on.

“I read on the internet that someone Nancy has uncovered as a criminal is out of jail, and no one knows where he is,” he said. “He is now suspected to be involved with her abduction. It may be that the people who asked me to work for them are the same people who…”

“Who kidnapped Nancy,” Yumi finished, all her focus on Rentaro now. “But they’ll suspect something if you approach them for work.”

“I don’t have their phone number anyway,” he said. “But they definitely said the work was on a ship.”

“Nancy would have left her home address with us,” Miwako said. “We could call her family and tell them what you know.”

“I have been working on a drone,” Rentaro said. “One which can fly over water. If I could make it invisible to radar, it could search for Nancy. All I need is someone who can help me finish it. And some of Nancy’s DNA.”

“We cleaned her room after her stay.”

“I know. Which is why I need to go to America. They have scientists there who can help me build it. The Technology of Tomorrow Today lab tweeted about Nancy. If they care about her, they can help me finish the drone.”

Yumi didn’t point out that they were probably working on their own way to find Nancy, if they were interested, and that the American police surely had the most up-to-date tech in the world. Rentaro was too excited and determined. He didn’t even ask for Miwako to join him. Maybe the time apart would do them both some good, gain perspective on what their lives would be like without each other.

“What a good idea,” she said.

“Yes,” Miwako said softly. “If you could help find Nancy, Rentaro, we would all be… very happy.”

He blushed again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More characters, more tags.
> 
> I now know of two people reading this story, so that’s a plus. I still don’t know how long it will be, since I’m making so much of this up as I go. But that’s the fun part, isn’t it? Well, aside from getting nice reviews (hint-hint). I’ve got a Nathanial Hawthorne book on hold at the library, and I’m getting National Treasure 2 out of the library tomorrow as well, with any luck.
> 
> It’s the craziest thing. The film was on the TV the other night, and I had it on mute since my sister was going to be calling at some unknown point. Anyway, I looked up because a dude was deciphering some code or other, and codes always interest me. Then I saw Cibola mentioned, and immediately un-muted. But then things got confusing, and I looked up the plot online instead. Now I want to watch the film for research. Should I watch the first National Treasure film before it? Probably doesn’t matter.
> 
> Please review!


	13. Revelations of a Monk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henrik has found some interesting information in the diary of Fray Marcos de Niza, information which may secure their safety if Cibola doesn't exist. It's certainly of interest to Hotchkiss, and relevant to her current research.
> 
> And an old, brief acquaintance makes contact with Savannah, who's just grateful to be of use to the Drew family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: mention of the menstrual cycle, because Reality Ensues.

“Extraordinary.”

“Hmm?” Nancy looked up from where she’d been staring at the opposite wall. The look on Dwayne’s face when she told him she would need supplies for her upcoming period, including a hot water bottle to ease the cramps, was one she would treasure her whole life. However long it was. “What was that, Henrik?”

“This is incredible, the most remarkable coincidence,” he replied. “I’ve been skimming through the earliest entries in Fray Marcos’s diary, looking for key words such as ‘treasure’ or ‘gold’ or even relevant place names. He mainly described the locals, his surroundings, and his work. Until now.”

“What happened?” Nancy asked, crawling unsteadily to the door.

“He’s now rubbing shoulders with royalty.”

“Royalty?”

“Yes. He’s meeting with the Spanish in Mexico, including Cortés. And Doña Isabel Moctezuma, former princess of the Aztecs and current Catholic married to Juan Cano de Saavedra, her sixth husband. Her last husband, I think?”

“That’s right!” Hotchkiss piped up from her cell. “The only one of her husbands to outlive her. They were married for nearly twenty years by the time of her death. How fascinating that your friar met her. I suppose the Spanish population _was_ still relatively small in the Americas then. She was so terribly generous to the Catholic church that it was inevitable she would meet many clerics, especially those of high rank. He seems to have been well-respected.”

“According to what we know of him, he received a promotion in his Franciscan order before his second trip in search of Cibola,” Henrik said. “I’ll let you know if I find anything else about Isabel Moctezuma.”

“Thank you, Harvey.”

Lunch was delivered while Henrik continued to read the diary, making notes. He hadn’t promised a full translation, only what he deemed relevant to their search. The mysterious researcher was still looking for anything related to El Toro, and Nancy had already double-checked her decoding of the diary Dwayne-as-Johnny had left for her to find in Dread Isle. They had the map, and that was the best they could do.

Nancy had asked why they hadn’t taken a quicker route to the place indicated on the map. Dwayne had been happy to explain that they were bound to be found travelling by road, and that going by air would be too complicated, and much too fast. If any more research needed to be done, they couldn’t stay in one place. Travelling by sea, far away from America’s shore and evading customs, was the best and safest way for the kidnappers. Nancy didn’t mind too much. She’d have trouble keeping her balance by the time they got to shore, but if it gave the authorities more time to find them, she didn’t mind passing her time in a small room, and occasionally getting to see another room and further the search for lost treasure.

If the treasure had ever even existed.

Henrik hummed a few times, mostly hums of interest over whatever he’d discovered, but obviously nothing worth talking about. Nancy was grateful for his voice. Where Hotchkiss mostly berated their kidnappers or snored, Henrik’s soft baritone put Nancy at ease, even when his words weren’t reassuring. She was starting to cling to it like a lifeline. Colin couldn’t talk to her much, and Hotchkiss seemed away with the fairies half the time. But Henrik was dependable and calming. Nancy needed that.

It had been at least ten days, if she hadn’t lost track. Sometimes Nancy went without talking to people from back home for days if she was on a case. And there was the time she and George were supposed to compete in New Zealand, which turned out to be one of Sonny Joon’s tricks. Outside contact had been forbidden.

But being cruelly separated like this caused Nancy to regret every wasted minute she could’ve spent talking to her loved ones. She even missed Ned, despite the break-up in Germany. Technically they made up while she was still in Germany, and the break-up took place in River Heights before the Clues Challenge. Maybe it was wrong to get Ned to take Deirdre on a date to give Bess a chance to snoop through her things, but they’d all known why he was doing it. Including Deirdre.

And… that made Nancy feel worse.

She sighed, and rested her head back against the wall.

“Please, hurry,” she whispered. “Someone. _Anyone_?”

“Nancy!” Henrik said. “I need you to come and see this.”

“Oh, sure. I’ll just step right out of my cell.” She got up and walked to the door, where she jiggled the knob. “It’s locked. Hello, locked door. My name is Nancy Drew.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t become you,” Henrik said. “I must discuss this with you, and I think you need to see it for yourself.”

“I would if I could, Henrik, but I’m kinda stuck here.”

“You, there. Can you call one of your masters and get someone to accompany Miss Drew into this room?”

There was a put-upon sigh, but help was summoned. Soren was the one who let Nancy out of her room, and she noticed Thanos standing by, watching her. Or maybe both of them. Soren nudged her into the research room, and stood by the door.

“Good to see you again, Henrik,” Nancy said. He looked up from the desk, and smiled kindly at her. He gestured her over.

“Come and see what I’ve found,” he said. “It’s quite fascinating, and may help us.”

“What is it?” she asked, leaning over his shoulder. She wanted the human contact as much as she was curious about what he’d found. Henrik leaned back slightly, probably also desperate for contact.

“A conversation Fray Marcos had with Doña Isabel,” he said. “They talked about faith for a long time, and he even made an attempt to speak her own language, which she commended him on. Because he showed such willingness to learn about her culture, and educate her people so that they could survive in the world the Spanish invasion had inflicted on them, she gave him something very important.”

“What?” Nancy asked impatiently. She wished she could read Spanish.

“Before her father’s capture, when he understood the danger, Moctezuma the Second gifted various items to his children, with the strict understanding that they be hidden away until the time was right for them to re-enter the world, so to speak.”

“What kind of items?”

“Religious artefacts, such as sacrificial knives and artwork, as well as engravings which depicted aspects of Aztec mythology.”

“ _Wow_ ,” she said. “What happened to them?”

“She’d striven to keep them hidden for as long as she could, but she always feared that her young children may find them. Children are curious by nature. It’s all about learning as much as they can.”

“I know about curiosity,” Nancy said. Not only the curiosity which led to her picking the locks to her father’s filing cabinets, but Jane’s fascination with puzzles and Lukas’s searches for hidden passageways in Castle Finster.

“Quite,” Henrik said. “She bore a number of children, and worried that they may find the treasures she had promised to hide from the very people with whom she was living. Just because she had abandoned her Aztec faith in favour of Catholicism didn’t mean that she wished to disrespect her father’s last request of his offspring.”

“So _this_ was Montezuma’s treasure,” Nancy said. “But what happened to it, Henrik?”

“Doña Isabel begged that Friar Marcos find somewhere to hide the treasure, very far away. He took the treasure, hidden beneath presents for the Franciscans. He knew that he couldn’t hold onto the artefacts forever. They weren’t his. And so he decided to return them to the land by hiding them. It was a matter of _where_ , and how he would go about it. He was busy establishing monasteries to teach the Native Americans about his own faith, but buildings can be destroyed by nature or man. ‘A mountain, however, will always stand firm’, as he says here.” He traced one of the sentences on the page. “That is as far as I have gotten, and I’m developing a bit of a headache. Perhaps Hotchkiss can take over?”

“She doesn’t know Spanish,” Nancy said.

“That’s very true, Nellie,” Hotchkiss said. “Some of it may be close to French, but not enough for an accurate translation.”

“Perhaps she kept her own diary?” Henrik suggested.

“No, she was illiterate. She may have communicated with pictures, as they often did, not having a written language as such.”

“They had forms of writing,” he replied indignantly. “They certainly had a numbering system, like the Mayans.”

“But remember, Isabel was also a woman,” Hotchkiss said. “She never would have been considered important enough to be educated, even as a princess. Her brother would have taken the throne, if the Spanish never invaded. Or Isabel’s consort would have ruled instead of her.”

“The point is, she wouldn’t have kept a diary,” Nancy said, heading off another academic debate. “But you’re still the most knowledgeable about her out of all of us, professor. If you have any ideas, we’d really like to hear them.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until Harold finishes his translation. If I still had the books I’d borrowed out of the library, maybe I’ve have more information for you.”

Nancy rubbed Henrik’s shoulder. “Give your eyes a rest. Maybe I can look through what you’ve got so far and come up with some new ideas.”

He nodded, and stood up with a groan.

“I’ve been hunched over this for too long,” he complained. Then he looked down at Nancy, who looked up at him, and he pulled her in for a hug. She sank into it gratefully, holding on tight. Tears came to her eyes, but she blinked them away, and squeezed her eyes shut.

“It’s _really_ good to see you again,” she whispered. Henrik rubbed her back, and Nancy was very aware of how long she’d been wearing the same clothes. He rested his head on top of hers.

“I hate that you’re stuck here with us, but I’m glad it’s you,” he said.

 

Wade hadn’t heard anything through his former jail contacts, but he’d asked them to keep their ears open for anything of interest. The rest of his time he spent keeping a close eye on Savannah. He knew she felt that she wasn’t contributing anything to the search, outside of helping around the house and shopping for the family. It wasn’t her usual line of work, after all.

“It’ll be okay,” he murmured, stroking her hair. Savannah looked up at him from their hotel bed, a haunted look in her eyes. He hated that look.

“I hate doin’ this, Wade,” she said. “Every time I set foot in that house it’s another day without Nancy bein’ safe at home. It feels wrong that we should be there without her. And there’s nothin’ I can do. I know I should be happy that I can’t feel her on the other side, but that could mean that she’s bein’ kept alive for something worse than… than _anything_ we could imagine.”

“I know, but—”

They were interrupted by the buzz of a cell phone. It was quickly identified as Savannah’s, and she answered it while Wade pulled on his trusty old combat boots, still kind of caked with mud from the Thornton family cemetery. Maybe he’d wear `em when he was buried there, alongside the rest of his family. Only if Savannah could be buried with him, though.

“Yes, I remember you,” Savannah said. “You worked in that little hut at the ryokan, didn’t you? And you were very sceptical about the spiritual world.” There was a long pause. “So why are you contacting me, if you were so against the book?”

“Who is it?” Wade asked.

“Uh, hang on a minute, Rentaro,” she said. She covered the mouth piece. “It’s the boy who worked at the Ryokan Hiei. He got my number from there.”

“Why’s he callin’?”

“I just asked him that.” She returned to the call. “You still there? So why…” There was a real long pause this time. “I _see_.” Wade sank onto the bed beside her, and wound his arm around her waist. “So you think she’s probably on a ship, and you wanna find her with a… a drone?” Another pause, shorter this time. “Yeah, I can get the number for the lab. Where are you? The airport? Uh, the lab’s in Colorado. Get on a flight there, and I’ll let them know you’re coming. Then I’ll give you directions. I can tell Nancy’s family what you’ve told me.” A short pause. “Thank you, Rentaro. Good luck.”

She hung up, and immediately started scrolling through her contacts. She sent off a text message, and strapped on her shoes while she waited for a reply.

“What was that all about?” Wade asked.

“He got a job offer from someone to work on a ship, even though Rentaro’s never set foot on one,” Savannah said. “It wasn’t long before Nancy went missin’. He thinks it might be connected, and he’s built a drone which should be able to fly over water. It’s also s’posed to be able to scan for someone based on their DNA. He wants to go to the Technology of Tomorrow Today lab for help. Nancy’s solved a murder there, so they should be willing to help. And you heard my end of the conversation.”

Wade nodded, and they both jumped when a reply came through on the phone.

“Okay, got it,” Savannah said. She called the number she’d been sent. “Hi, this is Savannah Woodham. I wrote about that expo… you remember me? I just received a call from a young man interested in helping to find Nancy Drew. His name’s Rentaro Aihara. He has reason to believe that Nancy’s on a ship of some kind, and he’s built a drone to find her. But he needs help finishing it off, the kind of resources and people you have there. He’s on his way to Colorado. I know it’s a lot to ask, but could…” A pause. “Oh, _thank_ you. The next flight from New York to Colorado, if he can get a ticket in time.”

The call finished soon after that, and Savannah was able to call Rentaro back and tell him the lab’s address. He gave her the projected arrival date, and she contacted the lab again to let them know. They promised to have someone meet him there, if possible. By the time Savannah was ready to go, she was beaming.

“I finally have somethin’ to tell Mr. Drew!” she said. “C’mon, Wade. Let’s get goin’. Wait `til they hear.”

“Marry me,” Wade said, dazzled by her smile. Savannah froze at the door, and looked over her shoulder.

“What?” she said.

“Uh… nothin’.”

“No, you just asked me to marry you, Wade. Were you serious?”

“Well, I was plannin’ to ask you one day,” he said, shrugging. “This way Nancy’s gotta come back. We’ve gotta invite her, seein’ as how she got us back together.”

Savannah’s face softened, and she held out her hand. Wade quickly walked to her side and grabbed hold.

“I’ll marry you even if we don’t get Nancy back,” she said. “But I’d rather we find her first, before we tell anyone. Even before we tell Jessalyn and Harper.”

“Whatever you want,” he said. “And we’re not gettin’ married without Nancy there. So we _are_ gettin’ married. Okay?”

She nodded, biting her lip.

“Okay,” she whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t know how that last bit happened, but it did. Well, there’s only been a couple of weddings mentioned in the Nancy Drew games. (The characters on the soap opera don’t count.) So that’d be Hugh and Linda in Curse of Blackmoor Manor, and Kyler and Matt in Haunting of Castle Malloy. What with Jessalyn and Colton not getting married in Ghost of Thornton Hall.
> 
> So yeah. May as well throw in a marriage proposal, because why the hell not?
> 
> And you see how the stuff about Doña Isabel has become relevant? Ha-ha! And yes, that was my plan all along. Got it in the story notes and everything. I knew that Cibola was simply a legend, and Nancy’s treasure hunts sometimes have a twist. See the hearts of gold in Secret of Shadow Ranch. Plus I wanted historical stuff, since the games usually have some kind of back story like that. At least the classic games did.
> 
> I guess Savannah should’ve had more of a reaction to Logan, her former assistant, being there with Charleena Purcell. She probably dismissed it as Logan finding a more reliable author to work for, and I don’t know how many of the people there knew that he gave information to Cathedral. Have I even had him mention that to anyone yet? Bess didn’t seem very receptive to his reassurances in whichever chapter that was. The one with Dagny, I think.
> 
> Anyway. Please review!


	14. More Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things are confirmed, setting one mind at rest (for the time being), and causing anxiety in others.
> 
> There's also been a museum break-in, though not a robbery. Eloise passes the information on to Carson, and Soren tries to pass on his own message.

“Oh man,” Jenna Deblin said, hanging up the phone. She leaned against the counter and sighed heavily. “You’re not gonna believe this.”

Holt Scotto looked up from his paperwork. The diner was the only place he could get anything done, away from the hustle and bustle of his council office.

“What’s the problem?” he asked gruffly.

“Just found out that Andy Jason somehow escaped from jail,” she said. “About two weeks ago.”

“And here I was, thinking he’d been put away for a long time. He was arrested for smuggling. How did he get out?”

“Someone from the outside got in and basically broke him out. Didn’t take any of the other prisoners; just Andy.” A redhead walked into the diner, ruffling her helmet hair to let it rest naturally. “Katie, Andy’s out.”

“Out?” Katie Firestone said. “Why is he out? Did he get parole?”

“No,” Jenna said. “He’s off the radar. No one’s been willing to report it until now, but apparently a few people have left jail or been broken out during the last month, and the only reason it’s being made public is because…”

“Because what?” Katie asked, sitting at the counter a few seats down from Holt.

“They’re all criminals uncovered by Nancy Drew,” Jenna said.

“Oh,” Holt said, lowering his eyes. His hand tightened around his pen.

“Oh _no_ ,” Katie said. “Poor George. I know it’s been hard on her since Nancy was abducted. What would anyone want with Andy? I mean he knows whales, for sure, and cargo ships, but he’s also kind of lost it. He kidnapped me, nearly strangled Nancy, and that gas tank hit him on the head pretty hard. I think it knocked a few more screws loose.”

“He was definitely treated for internal head trauma,” Holt said. “Or something like that. He seemed fine for a few weeks, before collapsing in court. At first they thought it was faked, but then blood started coming out of his ears. He recovered, but he was never the same. Sorta spacey, I think the police said.”

“As politely as they could,” Jenna said, placing a bowl of clam chowder in front of Katie, who tucked in hungrily. “So, like Katie said, why would anyone break him outta jail? He’s not much use now, unless he’s been faking the whole time.”

“He hated Nancy bein’ mentioned in front of him,” Holt said. “Even after the head trauma was dealt with, he still knew her name, and reacted badly to it. We’d better hope he’s not anywhere near her, or…”

He didn’t have to say it. They all knew just how dangerous a criminal with a grudge could be, especially if he had no control over his own mental faculties.

 

Karl was extremely worried about Nancy Drew. She’d proven that he wasn’t cursed by his Doppelganger, and helped him create the final character for Raid. His game had become so popular that he was considering giving up his job at Castle Finster, moving to Canada to be with Mildred, and continue creating board games from there.

For the time being, he was back in Germany, and after reading about several of Nancy’s enemies being freed from jail, he was determined to ensure that Anja was safely under lock and key.

He hadn’t heard the first threat himself, the one Nancy mentioned in her report to the police, but he’d heard Anja shouting about revenge as she was led away. Nancy had seemed fine with it at the time, not concerned at all. And she lived in a completely different country oceans away, so Karl had thought she was safe.

But she wasn’t. Not from people in her own country, and maybe his own.

“You have five minutes,” the guard told him. Karl nodded, and sat down at one of the desks. He hoped the window was strong. He’d felt the weight of the monster costume Anja had used, and knew she had to be strong to wear it around as much as she had, as well as hauling shop merchandise around.

More visitors joined him, and soon the prisoners were led in. Anja was there, sure enough, and Karl sighed in relief. She sat down, and they both picked up the phone.

“We hear things,” she told him. “You wanted to ensure I was here, and not holding your little detective friend hostage on the open seas.”

“That was the idea, yes,” he replied.

“I was given my chance, but I don’t need help,” she said. “If there is anything left of Nancy Drew after this, I will bide my time, and come up with the perfect plan. Then, when I have my chance…” She brought her fist down on the table with a loud bang, and Karl jumped in his seat. “I will squash her like a bug. _Squeeze_ the life out of her until there is nothing left.”

Karl was so shocked by her terrifying look that he couldn’t speak. Two of the guards wrestled Anja out of the seat and took her through the doorway, while she laughed manically. With a shiver, Karl stood up, locking his knees to stop them from trembling. When he felt steady, he pushed away from the desk, and left the room as quietly as he’d entered.

He would report the threat to Nancy if she _did_ make it out of… whatever was happening. Anja knew something about it, but she was unlikely to share unless she thought it would lead to her getting revenge sooner. There was no point in trying to reason with her at the moment. He would talk to a prison officer, though, and tell them about the conversation. Even if it was not standard procedure, he would have done it. They needed to know the danger their walls contained, and ensure that Anja could never leave the country.

And ensure that Nancy never returned to Germany.

 

“We should be grateful that he is the only escapee,” Detective Sophia Leporace of the GDiF said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “The others remain inside. But Nico Petit is still a criminal, who was not afraid to get close to Nancy Drew and steal the locket from around her neck.”

“He is not a leader,” one of her juniors said. “We can be happy about that.”

“But he can be led by a competent leader,” Sophia replied. “He would not think to pull off a kidnapping, and would not have thought of getting revenge. But if someone else put it into his head, and employed his talents intelligently, he could be persuaded. And if it means freedom, he will do it.”

“He’s a petty thief—”

“Who is not only incredibly light-fingered and bold, but also creative, fluent in at least four languages, including English and Spanish, and he is handsome and charming. He can trap anyone he wants with very little effort. It took arresting him as part of a large organisation to get a conviction that would stick.” Sophia looked with disgust at the report of his bail being paid by an anonymous benefactor, over two weeks ago. “For all the good it did.”

“So what do we do now?”

Sophia closed the report.

“We tell the American police,” she said. “Find me the phone number and calling code for River Heights Police Department. That is where Nancy lives. We will email them Nico’s full history and photographs of him.”

“Does he have any weaknesses?” another junior officer asked.

“Bravado, seasickness, an allergy to tree nuts, a poor long-term strategist,” Sophia said. “He picks up languages quickly, and has excellent sleight of hand skills. His ambitions were low before Helena Berg chose him as part of her criminal organisation. Since then he has thought more highly of himself than he deserves.”

“Do you consider him to be a real danger to Nancy Drew?”

“If she really is supposed to be hunting for treasure, I cannot imagine what part Nico would play in all of this. We know that he left for America; one of his cellmates told us that he had spoken of finally getting to ‘see the States’. Unless he has developed skills we do not know about, how could he be of any use in a treasure hunt?” She tapped the report with her long nails absently. “I must think on this further. Perhaps the American police will have some ideas. Get that phone number and area code for me. Pronto!”

 

“All I can say, Carson, is that it’s a good thing murderers in this country are put away for life,” Eloise said, picking at a tassel on her throw rug. “I wish I could be there, but I’m the head librarian and exams are coming up. The students are stressed enough trying to find the right resources for their assignments without me disappearing and leaving one of the assistants in charge, or getting someone new.”

“I know,” Carson said. “ And it’s a relief to know that Beech and Dillon are both still in jail. But other countries can be more lenient, and people who haven’t been arrested for murder could still be involved. The number of times saboteurs or fraudsters or thieves have come close to killing Nancy… I just don’t know why they don’t include those in the list of charges! Nancy must tell them about it. If I was prosecuting them, they’d never get away with it.”

“No,” Eloise said. “I heard about all the charges you threw at Brenda Carlton.”

“Her actions not only nearly destroyed Nancy’s reputation, _and_ her faith in the people of River Heights, but they also led to people trying to destroy our home and hurt Nancy. And what if she’d been killed in that fire? I was stuck in Australia while she was in so much danger…”

“But she had people on her side, Carson. You have to remember that. And those same people are helping you now. How are Bess and George doing?”

“They’re holding up. Fenton’s left for a few days, chasing some leads. The boys are trying to help, rejecting other cases that crop up, even though I’ve told them there’s nothing more they can do for now. I’m thinking about sending them to help Deirdre Shannon in Massachusetts. We haven’t heard from her for awhile.”

“What about your other visitors?” Eloise asked.

“Tino’s being surprisingly helpful. He’s offered to travel wherever we think Nancy might be. Alexei’s been a real rock. He’s been organising my days so I can work on my current cases, and keeps calling to make sure I’m not brooding. He also brings sandwiches to the office for lunchtime, and keeps me company. I think he’s making sure I’m still eating.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Eloise smirked slightly.

“Let’s see, who else? The Southerners, the ones who chase ghosts. They’ve been trying to project optimism onto us, and they’ve been doing every little chore they can think of. Savannah’s taken over a lot of the cleaning now, and Wade’s been doing the gardening. Charleena Purcell and her assistant, who actually used to be Savannah’s assistant once, they’ve been following up on the research Beatrice Hotchkiss asked about, and corresponding with the Mexican Embassy in Washington. And Dagny Silva… well, she’s also calling up everyone she knows through her treasure-hunting business. I think she feels bad that someone like her is using Nancy. She’s hoping that the man who called her knows something of Nancy’s whereabouts. So am I. We _all_ are. Any thread of information…”

“I’ve emailed you everything I could find about Coronado and his attempts to find the cities of gold,” Eloise said. “If there’s anything else I can look up for you, you let me know, alright? Oh, and I contacted Beech Hill Museum. They’ve hooked me up to the museum and gallery curators network, in case anyone tries to find information through a place like that. No one’s alerted me so far… oh, I just got an email on my home computer.” She waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll look at it later.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes. It’s a bit close to closing hours for anyone to be contacting me for work reasons.”

“Not if it’s from a different time zone,” Carson pointed out.

“…True,” she said, and she took the phone over to her computer. She clicked on the notification, and up came the email. “What on Earth could _this_ be?”

“What is it?”

“Wait a moment, Carson.” She skimmed through the text of the email, and her eyes widened. “Apparently someone broke into the… Museo Nacional de… I can’t pronounce the rest of it. Nothing was taken, but the break-in was captured on security cameras. The people – three of them – took a journal from the sixteenth century collection, and used a portable scanner to copy every single page. Then they replaced the journal and left. But the staff were able to identify it.”

“And?”

“It was written by Marcos de Niza. They’ve attached images from the security cameras, they best they were able to get. I’ll forward you the email in case you’re able to identify anyone.”

“Thanks, Eloise,” he said, relieved. “I knew there was a reason you’re my favourite sister.”

“I’m you’re _only_ sister,” she reminded him. “You’re welcome, Carson. Just get my niece back safe and sound.”

“We _will_ ,” he said. “Did the museum staff tell you what the journal contained?”

“They’ve only done a transcription of the diary, not an English translation. But they’re going to send a summary of what it contains as soon as possible.”

“Good. I don’t know how relevant it could be, but it’s too much of a coincidence to ignore.”

 

Alexei was still at the Drew house. He was reheating a casserole Mr. Fayne had made after work and brought over. Savannah had received an update from Rentaro, and Dagny was still waiting to hear again from Soren after having told him where Magnus and Elisabet were supposed to be. North of Canada, before icebergs could form. But they’d headed back an hour ago, and Carson had called Eloise on impulse. Now he was grateful for that, as Hannah checked emails and he paced back and forth.

“Dinner will be ready in a minute!” Alexei called from the kitchen.

“Thanks!” Carson replied. “Hannah, anything yet?”

“Yes, it’s here,” she said. “Should I print everything, including the pictures?”

“Yes, if the images aren’t too dark. We might have to lighten them on-screen first.”

The images weren’t too dark, since the thieves had brought good lights along with the portable scanner. But they were wearing dark clothes, and it was hard to make out their features or anything distinguishable, so Carson decided that they should let George or one of the Hardy boys mess around with the pictures.

“Sometimes I find myself wondering whether Nancy is getting people to ask for this information so we can find her,” Carson said, scanning through the printed email.

“Like a trail of crumbs?” Alexei said. “It’s possible. But it could be that the people who kidnapped her are giving themselves away somehow. They may not realise that we’re as far along as we are.”

“They _must_ be aware. If they’re following the news—”

“Then they could be desperate. Or maybe they’re leaving a false trail. If they are, we may have to rely on someone aboard that ship growing a conscience.” Alexei sipped his water. “Or that Nancy has a friend on board already.”

 

Soren shivered out on the deck. They were far North now, and since he came from Iceland he’d volunteered to be on the night watch, because at least he was more equipped to handle the cold than most of the people on board. Nearly everyone else came from warmer climes. Colin was walking around on deck somewhere, his English blood equally prepared for the cold.

Because most of the Greeks were sensible enough to stay inside, it was nearly deserted. Soren pulled a few small bottles out of his coat, all with the same message inside. It described the ship type, the name on the side, and the approximate location of the passengers. He’d also listed the names of crew members who knew Nancy, from what he’d overheard, and other names Dwayne had mentioned when talking on the phone. Soren had gotten some of his information from Colin; he hoped the man was reliable.

With a deep breath, he gathered his courage and dropped the first bottle over the side of the ship. He planned to space them out, hoping that when the Heerlijkheid came through at sunrise, someone would spot at least one of the bottles, and get news to America. Soren wished he knew precisely where they were headed, or where the boat intended to dock. This was the best he could do for the time being.

“Please be found,” he breathed, as he dropped the next bottle into the ocean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You go, Soren!
> 
> So we get to see more cameos from characters, and find out some more random information. As to the people who broke into the museum and scanned the diary pages Henrik has been translating, anyone want to guess who they are?
> 
> Please review!
> 
> In case anyone is wondering when this is set, I’m going on the theory that MID will be set around Halloween. It would explain the pumpkin in the trailer. And yes, maybe ice bergs are forming around then, but the Nancy Drew games often ignore reality.
> 
> On a fun (ha) note, I’ve made the calculations, and it seems the cargo ship would take about 22 days to travel from one coast to the other on the planned route. I hadn’t realise just how friggin’ large Canada and Alaska are. Bloody hell.


	15. A Fortnight On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy may be suffering, but she does get a short enough break to find out that people are rooting for her.
> 
> In River Heights, information comes and goes, but Dagny has the most news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: another mention of the menstrual cycle. It’s relevant.

It had been two weeks. Nancy didn’t have a way of scratching the number of days into the wall, so she had to use other memory tricks to make sure she kept track. It helped to be able to use the computer and see the date there.

“How much longer until we dock?” she asked. Her guard shrugged. “Right.”

She was getting so tired of using the same search terms over and over again. Typing up Nigel Mookerjee’s memoirs was less tedious. At least she’d been rewarded with a sketch of the shield she needed to be able to access… whatever she’d had to access in Blackmoor Manor. And it helped with the key, although she could’ve figured that out by process of elimination. But she’d needed information to solve a case, and did whatever it took to find the information. Just sitting at a computer and looking at the same papers over and over again… was the most boring thing she’d ever had to do, with no guarantee of safety once her mission was complete. There was no guarantee of Henrik and Hotchkiss’s safety, either.

Nancy was sure she could trust Colin, and less sure that she could trust Soren. She never had a chance to talk to either of them alone, to find out what they were really doing on board, if they _had_ any secondary motivations. She never got to explore outside of the cargo area where they were being held, so she had no idea whether anyone else she knew might be among the crew.

She rubbed her belly as another cramp shot through. Somehow they’d managed to get supplies, but she wasn’t allowed to keep painkillers in her room, in case she got herself hospitalised deliberately. For the first time, she was glad about that.

“Could you get me a couple of painkillers?” she asked the guard.

“Why?” he grunted.

“Because I’m on my period, and I will _strangle_ you with the laptop’s power cord if you don’t get me pain relief _right now_ ,” she said through gritted teeth.

The guard sneered, but he left, locking the door behind him.

“They can track whatever you try to do,” he said through the bars.

“Like I’m gonna forget that,” Nancy said. The guard stomped upstairs. Nancy didn’t try to check her emails. The sites would be blocked. She’d had trouble the one time she tried to submit a request for more information from a website, which had mentioned a red building both de Niza and Coronado found on their journey. It ended up not being relevant, especially since the site posed the theory that they’d found different red buildings, and both were probably gone by now.

But Nancy needed _something_ else to do, even if it was just a game. Maybe she could do nonograms or play Scopa online? Dress up avatars like she did in Japan using the program on Yumi’s TV? Find the electronic version of Raid?

She pulled up a search engine, and typed in her name without thinking about it. Up came a long list of articles about her disappearance, including something about a hash tag. She clicked on it, and gasped when a range of Tweets appeared from all around the world.

_Supporting a sleuth who helped us rescue the Royal Palladium. **#StandWithND #HADIT**_

_Supporting a sleuth who discovered long-lost gangster treasure and stopped a fire from spreading through Moon Lake. **#StandWithND**_

_Supporting a sleuth who saved Captain Cove’s Amusement Park, my father Darryl Trent’s legacy. **#StandWithND**_

_Supporting a sleuth who knows her way around a kayak, a lighthouse, and an old woman’s riddles. **#StandWithND**_

_Supporting a sleuth (and fan) who remains sceptical, but respectful of other people’s beliefs in the supernatural. **#StandWithND**_

_Supporting a sleuth who always has time to make mint choc chip cookies for her roommate. **#StandWithND**_

_Supporting a sleuth who was also the very first person to model my outfits (see image below). **#StandWithND**_

_Supporting a sleuth who supports animals in need of sanctuary. **#StandWithND #RunAndGrowFree**_

_Supporting a nascent detective who uncovers fiendish plots, retrieves stolen property, and does it simply to help others. **#StandWithND**_

_Supporting a sleuth who saved everyone at Thornton Hall when it went up in flames, no matter the danger to herself. **#StandWithND**_

_Supporting a sleuth willing to go to out to a lighthouse in the freezing cold so others can stay in the warm. A real bro. **#StandWithND**_

Nancy smiled warmly, and wiped away her tears. Stupid hormones. She returned to the search engine and scrolled through the news feed, trying to find anything happening in the part of America they were heading for. Arizona or Colorado, according to the map overlays. Were there any festivals on?

“What’s this?” she murmured. She found something about a break-in at a museum in Central America. Images had been captured on security footage, but the police hadn’t reported any suspects yet. Even if they identified the people, what kind of charges could they lay against them? Not theft; only breaking and entering, and according to the report, no actual damage had been done. The lock had been picked and the key-code overridden. No damage was done, and nothing was taken.

With a sigh, she returned to the previous page, and narrowed her search terms. She was rewarded with a musical festival in Utah in a few days’ time, and a rodeo in Colorado in about ten days or so, if the weather stayed fine. The Arizona State Fair had already started, so people from all over would be flocking to Phoenix. But even if Nancy helped the others escape, how far would they have to travel, possibly by foot, to get to any of these places for help?

She decided to look up Salem, and find out whether any arrests had been made. She felt guilty about not being able to be there for Deirdre. Then she’d tell herself to stop feeling guilty, because if she hadn’t had to pull over for Deirdre’s call, she wouldn’t have been kidnapped, at least not then. It seems that Dwayne would’ve waited for the right moment to strike, and Hotchkiss and Henrik would’ve been trapped even longer with nothing to do and only each other for company. On the other hand, they would’ve been reported missing much sooner, and could’ve been found before the ship could set sail. Nancy could’ve even found them herself.

But there was no use blaming Deirdre. She’d been trying to stand on her own two feet and solve the mystery without help. If she finished her criminology course, that’s what she would ultimately be aiming for: a career in mystery-solving, whether privately or in the police force. And knowing Deirdre, she’d want to climb all the way to the top of her profession.

Still, there was nothing much in the way of news about Salem. A paranormal tour guide had been arrested for drugging her customers with hallucinogens, and was refusing to tell police anything else, because apparently everyone kept ‘getting [her] wrong’. It was a pity she wasn’t even trying to defend herself, or at least strike a plea deal. If she knew anything about another case, the information would be useful.

That wasn’t for Nancy to deal with, though. And nothing much else was happening in Salem. She did see a few recent images of people on tours, including… was that _Dylan Carter_? It sure looked like him, and Nancy remembered that one of his fake credentials was for John Grey’s Paranormal Tours. At least he was back on his feet and safely ensconced in Salem, away from the black market in Egypt. He’d rescued Nancy by being the first into the newly-found tomb; otherwise she would’ve been the one injured and trapped by rocks.

“What are you looking at?”

She jumped in her seat, and noticed that the guard had returned. He shoved an unopened blister pack of painkillers and a plastic cup of water forward. Nancy accepted them, and placed them on the desk.

“Trying to catch up on the outside world,” she said, popping the pills. She swallowed them down, and drank the rest of the water to lubricate her muscles. Now that she was no longer distracted by research, the pain would return any second. Yep; there it was. She winced as she rubbed her lower back. “A lot’s been happening.”

“Yes,” he said, and he closed the browser window. “You are done for the day.”

Nancy was returned to her cell, and she lay down on her bed, relieving some of the pain by stretching out. Her hot water bottle was room temperature now, and no use to her anymore, so she settled in for a nap.

“Nancy?” Henrik said.

“Yeah?”

“Perhaps if you tire of French, I could teach you Spanish.”

“Why not?” she said. “If it keeps my mind busy. You’re not sick of reading it, are you?”

“Now that I’ve finished my notes on the diary, I find myself thinking in Spanish more than in English,” he said. “I may as well put that to good use.”

“Alright… but maybe later. I think I’ll sleep for now.”

After she’d been able to hug Henrik, they’d been pulled apart too soon. There was nothing harmful in a hug, and it almost felt like positive reinforcement to get the human contact, but the people who’d kidnapped her obviously didn’t want her to have any spark of happiness. It was cruel, because now Nancy craved that contact. Not from her enemies, of course, but from friends. It was hard enough missing her father, who was miles away. But missing Henrik, who was only a handful of yards away?

Another cramp spiked through her belly, and Nancy curled up on her side, tugging the sheet over her head. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to pretend that she was being hugged again.

 

Carson had convinced the Hardy boys to head over to Massachusetts and find out what was going on. He still found it hard to talk to Ned over the phone. Half the time he felt himself angry about the break-up, when it was so good for Nancy to have a steady boyfriend who’d be happy to live in River Heights, and not take Nancy halfway around the world and away from Carson. The other half of the time, he felt guilty about the anger, and couldn’t handle Ned being so understanding. So he generally avoided conversations with any of the Nickerson family, and presumed that George and Bess were keeping him up-to-date.

As for Deirdre Shannon, Carson refused to talk to her. Not only because she was part of the reason Nancy was gone, but because he couldn’t stand her _or_ her family. She’d used Nancy to pass an assignment she should’ve failed. She should’ve been kicked out of the entire course, considering that she was studying criminology, and plagiarism was against the law.

Money talked, though, and her parents were determined to see her become just like Nancy. Only the thought of what they put Deirdre through kept Carson from hating her completely.

“Got a call from Fenton,” Tino said. “Says he’s coming back. He hasn’t found anything else, just confirmed most of what we… you’ve suspected since the beginning. Oh, and Hannah’s got a headache. She’s resting, but she wanted me to give you this email.”

“Thanks,” Carson said, accepting it with one hand as he hung up his coat. “It’s from Karl Weschler.”

“Yeah, the, uh, the burger-guy.”

“Burgermeister.”

“He checked up on the woman Nancy busted in Germany. She’s still in jail, but she knows something. The police have questioned her, but she’s bein’ stubborn. He’s going back tomorrow to tell her that…” Carson arched an eyebrow. “I’ll let you read it.”

“Alexei should be here soon. How are the others doing?”

“Savannah’s heard from the lab in Colorado. Charleena’s going through the translation Eloise sent from the museum in Guatemala. She’s found references to a princess… I’ll let her tell you all about it. I’m just gonna go check on Hannah, make sure she’s okay.”

“Thanks, Tino,” Carson said. He scanned the email quickly. Karl planned to tell Anja that if Nancy was… _killed_ by the people who’d abducted her, she’d never get her chance for revenge. If that didn’t get her to talk, it was possible that she was involved after all, and someone who have to lean on her for more information, and interrogate anyone she’d been in contact with for the last month. It was unsettling, but at least Karl was trying.

There were too many world cruises going on around America at the moment, but everyone close to shore was being checked, even those in boats too small to keep hostages. Every vessel going through the Panama Canal was checked stringently for passengers. Most were happy to comply, especially when the situation was explained to them. Those who weren’t happy were considered suspicious. A number of smuggling operations had apparently been busted, but no sign of Nancy. Besides, if they’d taken that route they would’ve already gotten through before the inspections were intensified, and could even be approaching land by now. Or maybe they’d hopped off at the canal and were already on land.

He dumped the email on the top of the latest pile of documents, and collapsed into an armchair. Savannah and Wade were looking through some of the case files, and Charleena and her assistant were both on phone calls.

“Did you find out anything from the lab?” Carson asked.

“Rentaro said they’re nearly done with the drone,” Savannah said. “They need to perform a few tests first, so that’ll take a few days. If we could narrow down the location of the ship, it’d really help them when they take it out for the real deal.”

“I’m sure everyone’s doing the best they can,” he said. “I’d settle for it operating over land at the moment. As long as the DNA scanning works, it’d be a huge step forward.”

“As soon as they’re ready to search for Nancy, I’ll take something of hers to Colorado so they can get her genetic information,” she said.

“I think you said there was some hair left on her brush?” Wade said.

“The police took a few strands to match it to what was left in her car, but there’s still enough left,” Carson said. “She was planning to get a haircut next week.”

“It’ll just be delayed awhile,” Savannah said gently. “That’s all. We can all take her out for a treat. I’m sure Bess and George will be happy to make a girls’ day of it. And Dagny can come along. Hannah, too. And Charleena, if she isn’t busy with her next book, or taking care of Professor Hotchkiss.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Carson said. “It’ll all be fine.”

He was lying through his teeth. He knew something would go wrong. It always did.

 

Alexei noticed Dagny hurrying along. He pulled over, and lowered the window.

“Hop in,” he said. She smiled, and jumped into the passenger seat.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Do you have news?”

“Uh-huh.” She was squirming in place, her phone clutched tightly in her hand, and it was the most he’d seen her smile since she came to River Heights. In general she didn’t seem like a smiling person – he knew all about that – so it had to be good. Not great, like Nancy actually being found, or she would’ve sent a message to the whole group before running over to the Drew house. But it was definitely welcome news, whatever it was.

He had a key to the house by now, so he let both of them in. He gestured Dagny to go through to the living room first while he locked up, and followed quickly.

“It’s not much, but it’s something,” she blurted out. Carson looked exhausted, but he perked up when he noticed them.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Magnus and Elisabet picked up a message in a bottle,” Dagny said. “They had to stop unexpectedly to make some repairs to the Heerlijkheid, and got a few days behind schedule. But then they noticed a few bottles floating in the water, and they all had the same message. Soren’s on a cargo ship, and he’s seen Nancy. We were right about all three hostages. He didn’t have much space on the note, but he drew a picture of the ship, and wrote the name of it. Problem is, he didn’t write the date, so we don’t know how long the bottles were in the bottle. But he’s mentioned a bunch of people we suspected to be involved with the kidnapping. They took a picture of one of the notes, and sent it to me. I’ve emailed it to you, but I’ve also still got it on my phone. I’ll try to attach it to the group thing as well, so the others can see it.”

“I’ll check the email,” Carson said, heading for the computer. It was usually in his office, but they’d moved it closer to the living room for easier access.

“Thanks, Dagny,” Alexei said. “Has everyone eaten yet?”

“We got takeout for lunch,” Wade said. “It’s much quieter without Bess and George. Where are they?”

“They’ve been doing a TV interview,” Logan said. “Carson’s been busy with work, and Hannah’s camera shy, so they volunteered to speak for the family. They should be back in a couple of hours.”

“I wonder if they’ll be on the news?” Savannah said. “Could we check?”

“I’ll ask Carson,” Alexei said.

“The seven o’clock news,” Logan said. “That’s when they’re supposed to be on. It’ll be repeated in the morning.”

“Well, I’ll get dinner ready, instead.”

“I’ll do that,” Hannah told him, appearing at the doorway. “You can set the table.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How domestic. I realised that Bess and George weren’t in the chapter, so I had to explain it away. Hmm.
> 
> Please review!


	16. Whirlwind Deirdre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever since she took over the case, Deirdre has had to juggle her course work along with research into the Hawthorne/Hathorne family as well as the people on her suspect list. But it's all been worth it, because she's not got... even more things to research. Goody-goody.
> 
> Needless to say, she's extremely pleased when the Hardy boys show up. Now they can do some of the work for her!

“It won’t be so bad,” Joe said. “She _did_ help out when Nancy was in Colorado.”

“For her own selfish reasons,” Frank pointed out.

“Yeah, but think, Frank. What would Nancy do?”

“…She was on her way here.”

“Exactly. And she told Deirdre to call her if she needed help, even just for advice. Nancy would’ve trusted us to help her, too. Now Mr. Drew is asking us. We can’t exactly say no, can we?”

“I’d rather be in River Heights.” He followed Joe up the stairs to the third floor. “But I guess… it’s good to feel like we’re doing _something_ for Nancy.”

“We’ve done all we can,” Joe insisted. “Let’s just get this over and done with. The sooner we crack this case, the sooner we can get back to River Heights. Or wherever we need to go. Dad will tell us.”

Frank sighed, and they knocked on the door of Deirdre’s apartment.

“Hang on!” she called. Frank even hated her _voice_. He braced himself as the door swung open. “Who’re you?”

“I’m Joe Hardy, and this is my brother, Frank,” Joe said. “Mr. Drew sent us to check up on the case, find out how you are, how Ned is, if he’s around. We were planning to kidnap him away for spring break sometime, since he kept complaining about how Nancy jet-setted around the world and he just stayed at home, being bored…” She narrowed her eyes, and he shut up.

“I’ll need IDs,” she said. The boys pulled out their identification cards, and even showed her various phone numbers of people she knew, as well as her own. It was the picture of the two of them with Nancy and Ned that finally convinced her, and she let them in.

“Thank you,” Frank said.

“Look, I have a full day of classes, including _two_ exams and handing in an assignment which I’ve been too busy to do the bibliography for, so I have to do that on the run, and all I can say is thank _God_ for electronic submissions.” She led them to her desk, where criminology textbooks had been shoved to the side, and other things were scattered over the desktop. “This is my centre of operations, my desk. Go ahead and look at stuff. _Not_ everything, okay? Just these things.” She gestured to the left and centre. “These papers are all relevant to the case. I haven’t really _done_ suspect profiles as such. Everything’s in this notebook. Usually I think the witch symbol throughout this _entire town_ is kitsch to a disturbing degree, but it seemed fitting to get it for this particular… endeavour.” She pointed to a footstool with a teetering pile of books beside the desk. “The early works of Nathanial Hawthorne, anything his aunt Ruth Hathorne would’ve read.”

“I—” Joe began.

“She left a bunch of puzzles behind, and I’ve mainly worked them out so far, including this weird puzzle box.” It was balanced precariously on top. “Feel free to follow up on what I’ve worked out. I _really_ don’t have the time today. You guys are the professional detectives, or whatever, so go at it. There’s a map of Salem Village from sixteen-ninety-two here, somewhere, and if you want a map for all of Salem today… check online. Got GPS? You should have GPS on your phones. There’s probably an app. There are only half the number of historical tours, thanks to my drugs bust. They’ll be hauling in quite a trade now that they’ll have double the numbers. So I guess I’m helping local business.”

“At the expense of another one,” Joe said.

“Uh, that was _drugging_ its customers, including Nedstopher,” Deirdre said. “Sorry, you probably only know him as Ned. Anyway, I don’t have a spare key, and I’m gonna be out all day. You’ve got my number. My exam times are on the sticky note, so _don’t_ call me then unless the building is literally on fire. The door will lock from this side, so either go out one at a time, or go out completely together until I get back from classes. Okay? Bye!”

She hurried out the front door with her laptop and her handbag, and Joe shrugged at Frank. He pulled up another chair to the desk, and they sat down to look through the notebook with the witch symbol on the front cover.

“Now that Whirlwind Deirdre Shannon is gone, maybe we’ll be able to concentrate,” Joe said. He flicked the sticky note with Deirdre’s exam times marked. “Pretty hefty schedule today.”

“I guess,” Frank said, instead looking through the book. “She hasn’t done too badly, you know. She found a crypt underneath Hathorne House, and explored there. At midnight. She followed a clanging sound to a key in a pipe, and there were drawings on the inside.”

“Of the key or the pipe?”

Frank gave his brother a withering look.

“What do _you_ think, Joe?” he asked.

“Okay, no need to get touchy. What were the drawings of?”

Frank flipped to another page. “Look, it’s a code. A picture, with a word underneath. Deirdre’s figured them all out. She’s referenced… are those story titles? Joe, grab one of those Hawthorne books.”

Joe moved the box out of the way. There was a mosaic on the front, but it didn’t form a picture. It seemed like random tiles had been put in place by someone completely colour blind.

“Right, Deirdre thought this one looked like a veil,” Frank said. “Referring to The Minister’s Black Veil.”

“It’s a story, alright,” Joe said.

“The word BELL was written beneath it. Engraved in the pipe. Deirdre says here that it means Old Meeting House Road.”

Joe found the story, and started reading.

“Yeah, there’s a bell being rung outside the meeting-house,” he said. “Frank, check that map she told us about.”

Frank grabbed the old map of Salem Village, clearly printed from the internet. Deidre had scribbled on it, and highlighted some parts. Old Meeting House Road was pretty much in the middle of the village.

“Got it,” he said.

“What’s the next clue?”

“A picture of a fountain… pretty basic one, but since it’s engraved into a curved surface I guess it’s pretty good. She’s written that it’s the Fountain of Youth, from Dr. Heidegger’s Experiment. YEARS equals fifty-five.”

Joe confirmed that a rose had been kept alive for fifty-five years, so Deirdre was probably on the right track with that.

“Then there’s a triangular shape with a couple of lines, and she’s interpreted this as a steeple,” Frank said. “It looks like she crossed out a few ideas and settled on it referring to a story named Sunday at Home.”

With _Mosses from an Old Manse_ and _Twice-Told Tales_ on his lap, Joe searched until he found the right one.

“What’s the rest of the clue?” he asked.

“FROCKS. Apparently they’re supposed to be pink, blue, yellow, and crimson.”

“Crimson being red,” Joe said slowly, scanning through the text. “Yep, got it.”

“Then she’s written BOX beside it, underlined several times.” Frank glanced over at the puzzle box. “Joe—”

“Way ahead of you,” Joe said, bending to pick up the box. He looked for the colours in a row, and found that there was only one place. He pressed all four down in order, but nothing happened. Then he pressed them all at once, and a concealed drawer sprang out of the side.

It was empty.

“Maybe she’s removed whatever was inside,” Frank said.

“Nancy would’ve done,” Joe said. “I hope it’s somewhere safe.”

“She might’ve written it down in here anyhow, or photographed it. Let’s see, the next clue is a picture of a frog with WIFE. She’s written Mrs. Bullfrog and Laura.”

After a minute, Joe confirmed that the wife’s name was mentioned once, and it was indeed Laura. Frank had to admit that Deirdre was doing well.

“There’s a picture of a mountain, and the title The Ambitious Guest,” he said. “It’s got ISSUE written beneath it. Deirdre looked it up online, and apparently it was first published in the November eighteen-thirty-five issue of… she doesn’t say what, but I guess that’s the answer.” He grimaced. “This one’s creepier. Ruth Hathorne, presumably, carved a picture of a skull, like the skull and crossbones.”

“And?” Joe said.

“Dr. Rappaccini’s Daughter, SHRUB, and the word purple. A purple shrub.” Joe shrugged. “Right. Uh, the last clue is a fishing rod, the name Fanshawe, HUGH in capital letters, which leads to Crombie Street.”

“…There isn’t a story called Fanshawe,” Joe said. Frank frowned, and took one of the books to check.

“Hang on, it says in the author bio that his first novel was published anonymously, and it was called _Fanshawe_ ,” he said.

“That’s why you’re the smarter one,” Joe said, setting the books back on the pile. “So what now?”

“She’s got a to-do list after all this,” Frank said. “She’s written down information about Mei Parris, the girl who’s being accused of witchcraft. She has a sister with a bit of a temper. Parents are overprotective because Mei’s an albino.”

“I always misread that as Albion,” Joe said. “Ever since we did that case in Indiana.”

“Focus, Joe. She’s also written notes about Jenna Ravencraft’s arrest, and that she’s not talking to anyone. She’s mentioned offhand that there’s a girl named Lauren Corey, who’s apparently pretty renowned for her video blog slash baking channel, who’s somehow connected to… Nancy.”

Joe rubbed his shoulder.

“I didn’t bring you here so you could worry about her in a different place,” he said.

“You can’t tell me you’re not worried, too.”

“Of course I am, but I’m not the one with a major, long-term crush. Callie didn’t help you get over it, and really, you should’ve tried to get over Nancy first before going after another girl.”

“I told you, that’s because we were undercover, and I needed an in,” Frank said.

“Alright, alright. Maybe I’ll believe you one of these days. So what’s on this to-do list Deirdre’s written? Maybe we can tackle some of those things?”

“We’re not getting stuck into doing all her chores, I’m telling you that now.”

“Yeah, I know. We’re not undercover, and we’re not Nancy. Just read `em.”

Frank paused on another page.

“She’s listed the names of the convicted, the judges, and the accusers in the Salem Witch Trials,” he said. “One of the prominent families at the time was the _Parris_ family. Deirdre’s even noted that this crime could be motivated by revenge.”

“Like they thought it was gonna be in _The House of Seven Gables_ ,” Joe said. Frank stared at him. “What? I read literature sometimes.”

“Right.” Frank turned to the to-do list. “Okay, she wants to track down the places she found by decoding that picture puzzle. So that’s Old Meeting House Road and Crombie Street. Figure out what the numbers are for, who Laura could be, and what purple shrubs have to do with anything. Oh, beside the shrub note she’s written that Ruth Hathorne considered herself an amateur artist, so maybe she hid something in a painting of flowers. But we’d have to track them down. Also, she needs to research the entire genealogy of each person involved with the trials, especially those who were condemned of witchcraft, and especially the people executed for it.”

“Oh, that’ll be _fun_ ,” Joe said.

“If it _is_ revenge, that makes sense,” Frank said. “I mean, we could try tracing the families of the people Deirdre has on her _very_ short suspect list, or we could be thorough and actually get the job done.”

“But what about whatever was in the box?”

Frank flicked back through the pages of the book, and finally found Deirdre’s drawing of the note which had been folded up inside the box. It was apparently in secure storage somewhere, along with the key. Frank hoped the ‘secure storage’ wasn’t too far away, in case they found anything.

“I guess we can eliminate anyone we know that didn’t have children,” Joe said. “And some of this stuff could be online.”

“Yeah.”

“What did the note say? Your arm’s in the way.”

“Oh.” Frank looked over it. “It says ‘Take the next line of that which led you here, and you will find the other key.’ Below that there’s another couple of lines: ‘Make a cross between Putnam and Thorndike, and Lindal and Hathorne. The cross will mark the spot.’

“That’ll be this ‘X’!” Joe said, jabbing his finger at the old map. “Look, those are the names of hills in Salem Village. See, just above Old Meeting House Road.”

“I wonder how long that road is,” Frank said.

“Maybe fifty-five is the house number?”

“Could be. What’s in the centre of the cross?”

Joe squinted as he tried to read around the thick lines Deirdre had drawn. “Uh… Beaver Dam Brook. A larger part of the brook, where it almost becomes a lake. We might have to go diving.”

“In this weather? That’ll be pleasant.”

“Aw, where’s your sense of fun, Frank?”

“I left it back in… wherever we were before we went to River Heights,” Frank said.

“Uh… okay. So what about the first line in the note? Does Deirdre have anything to say about that?”

Frank snorted in amusement. “Yeah. She complained that she stumbled across the key and drawings purely by accident, and she didn’t follow any clue that Ruth Hathorne left behind. I guess we should find out what prompted Deirdre to go searching a crypt at midnight.”

“I’ll start searching through Hawthorne’s stories for any mention of something in a crypt at midnight,” Joe said. “You go check out the birth and marriage records.”

“It’ll be quicker if we _both_ do research, Joe.”

“And I’ll be researching. The books. Or I could chase down those places Deirdre wants to search.”

“True,” Frank said, stroking his chin. “If we do the physical labour part, she won’t be able to complain about that. Then she can hit the books.”

“Of course, it’d be a waste of our time if the motive behind this slander isn’t revenge, but something more ingrained in the present,” Joe said.

“And if we could ‘chase up whatever Jenna Ravencraft’s deal is’, as Deirdre puts it, I think we’ll have enough to keep ourselves busy,” Frank added.

“Look, she’s drawn the key,” Joe said, turning back two pages. “Wow, she doodles a _lot_. Like Sonny Joon level of doodling.”

“Less interesting,” Frank said. He closed the book with a snap. “Come on, Joe. Let’s get to work. There’s a lot to do, and I hate being away from River Heights. Nancy should be here, not us.”

“Nancy would probably have the case solved by now,” Joe said. He placed the box on top of the books. “Hang on, we should write down the names of those people so we know who to look for.” He started to search for the right page. “Hey, did you see that the key has the words ‘had lock’ on it? Deirdre’s written ‘Duh, all keys have locks.’” He found the names. “Okay. It’ll be quicker to photograph them.”

Both boys took pictures of the names, but Frank copied everything down in his notebook, just in case. They couldn’t return after they’d left.

Prepared, the boys set the deadlock, and closed the door firmly behind them. They tested the door to make sure it was locked, and headed down the stairs.

“I mean, theoretically, we could pick the lock to get back in,” Joe said.

“We probably shouldn’t mention that to Deirdre,” Frank said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I don’t think Deirdre would appreciate knowing that.
> 
> So I didn’t expect this to take up the whole chapter, but it did, and I’m kind of impressed with myself. Might have to do a second chapter in a row about Salem, so we can see what the boys have gotten up to. I apologise if this gets tedious, but all this speculation about what could be happening in MID is… kind of fun. I know most of us are feeling impatient about the wait, but if it isn’t worth it at least the fans can make up something better, right?
> 
> Not that I’m saying this is better. And I probably won’t ever want to read anything about Salem again after this, at least not for awhile. But I went to a lot of trouble doing the research about Nathaniel Hawthorne’s stories to come up with some of these clues, and was annoyed when I found them all on Wikisource for free after I’d borrowed one of his books from the library. Oh well.
> 
> Please review!


	17. The Hardy Boys Are on the Trail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank and Joe continue their part of the investigation for Deirdre, and make a few interesting discoveries.

Heads bent over their phones, the brothers were eventually able to work out where Old Meeting House Road would be now.

“So we need to go to Danvers,” Joe said, baffled. “Isn’t this supposed to be taking place in Salem?”

“Danvers is where Salem Village used to be,” Frank said. “Come on. I’ll drive; you keep an eye on the map. We need to find Hobart Street.”

“Yeah, but there are more roads and houses than there used to be,” Joe said. “How will we know which one might’ve been fifty-five, if that’s even what the number means?”

“It might’ve been different again when Ruth Hathorne was alive,” Frank said. “I guess we’ll just have to use our instincts with this one.”

“Or look for really old houses.”

“For that matter, we might have to look for the meeting-house in the story, and not a place on Old Meeting House Road.”

Joe sighed. He zoomed in one the image he’d found online of Salem Village from 1692. He scrolled down the street which was now called Pine Street, and noticed something odd.

“Frank.”

“Yeah?”

“What was written on that key?”

“Hadlock.”

“…There’s a Hadlock’s Bridge.”

“What?” Frank exclaimed. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah! It’s right here. Wait, don’t look. You’re driving.”

“I wonder if that’s what Ruth Hathorne meant,” Frank said. “Maybe we need the key to unlock something at Hadlock’s Bridge, assuming it’s still there.”

“And maybe…” Joe grinned. “ _Maybe_ , once upon a time, number fifty-five Old Meeting House Road was at the junction of Hobart and Pine, and by looking away from it, or towards it, you’d be able to see Hadlock’s Bridge!”

“It’s a long shot, but we can try it,” Frank said.

“I’m gonna see what else is around,” Joe said. “There’s gotta be something where that lake in Beaver Dam Brook was.”

“And see if there’s anything around where Hadlock’s Bridge should be. Maybe there’s still a bridge there.”

“It could be over Crane Brook?”

“Try street view.”

Frank used the GPS to find his way to Danvers, since Joe was busy searching.

“Okay, there’s the Danvers Rail Trail, part of which goes along Crane Brook,” Joe said. “There’s a pizza place nearby. I wonder if they do cheeseburgers?”

“Is there parking? I don’t want to do a whole trail when we only need to look at part of it, especially if it wasn’t around in Ruth Hathorne’s day.”

“Yeah, there’s parking. Looks like there are signs near the trail, with some old pictures. We could check them out? They might tell us about the old bridge. If it’s been taken down for some reason, the sign might say what they did with the wood.”

“Let’s just hope it _hasn’t_ been taken down, or that it didn’t burn down,” Frank said.

 

“That building looks old!”

“Does it look seventeenth-century old, Joe?”

“Oldest building I’ve ever seen.”

Frank sighed, and pulled over. They were finally on Pine Street, so close to Crane Brook, but Joe wanted to see something. Honestly, it was surprising that he hadn’t demanded to go eat pizza first, ‘for energy’.

“Nurse something,” Joe read, using the binoculars from the glove box. “Home… homestead? Hey, there’s a date! Looks like sixteen-something!”

“Wasn’t there a Nurse who was executed for witchcraft?” Frank asked, scrolling through the pictures on his phone. “Yeah, Rebecca Nurse.”

“Let’s check it out!”

“Let’s look for Hadlock’s Bridge _first_ ,” Frank said. “I’ve never seen you this excited about history before. I’ve gotta say, it’s equally refreshing and unnerving.”

Joe rolled his eyes as Frank started up the engine again. They found the pizza place and laundromat, and parked in an empty space. They grabbed a paper menu from outside, even though the place wasn’t open yet. It wasn’t time for lunch, but if they looked like they intended to come back and eat, they wouldn’t get a parking violation sticker. At least that was the theory they were working on.

“This the sign you were talking about?” Frank asked, pointing.

“Yep.”

They crossed the road, and made their way over to the sign. One was for the Danvers Rail Trail, with a set of rules. The other was about historical landmarks in the vicinity, including the Nurse Homestead.

“It was open for Halloween,” Joe said. “That’s not morbid at _all_.”

“Looks like the Danvers Historical Society is involved with this,” Frank said. “We should find out where they’re based. They might be able to help.”

“Don’t forget, we need to check out Crombie Street, wherever _that_ is,” Joe added.

“And there’s the place we have to dive. Where’s that?”

“This Greenleaf… place,” Joe said, pulling out his phone. “Uh, where’s the map… Greenleaf Open Space. It’s a park, and there’s… a much bigger lake than the one on the map. I think if we’re gonna go diving, and we want light, we’ll either need glow-sticks or we’ll need to go during the daytime, when people are at work and school.”

“As long as no one brings their children along to feed the ducks,” Frank said. “For Ruth Hathorne’s artwork, we might have to check out Hathorne House, or any library or archives back in Salem. Let’s just stick to what we need to look for in Danvers first. We’ve also gotta figure out what ‘Laura’ means, and that date in eighteen-thirty-five.”

They hiked along the path in the direction of where Hadlock’s Bridge should’ve been, according to the old map. Joe continued to fiddle with his phone, until he let out a triumphant ‘Ah-hah!’

“What is it?” Frank asked. “Can’t you focus on the bridge, Joe?”

“If there’s a bridge, we’d see it,” Joe said. “It’s be pretty big. Like a normal bridge.”

“Not if it was built just for pedestrians.”

“I’ve found out what might be relevant to Crombie Street.”

“Okay. Let’s hear it.”

“The house of William Pike, friend of _Nathaniel Hawthorne_.”

“Ah.” Frank smiled. “Good work.”

“It’s at number eighteen Crombie Street. It was moved there in eighteen-thirty, from its original location… the internet doesn’t say where it was moved from.”

“No, but Ruth Hathorne may’ve known her nephew’s friends,” Frank said. “I wonder whether it’s a museum or residential. If someone lives there, they’re not going to say, ‘Sure, have a look around, we trust strangers _completely_.’”

“We won’t know if we don’t ask,” Joe said.

“Aw, Joe.”

“No sign of the bridge?” he asked, tucking his phone into his back pocket.

“Not yet,” Frank said.

“Maybe we should ask some people at the historical society instead. This’ll take way too long otherwise, and we have a lot to do.”

“You’re probably right. I think there was a phone number on the sign. We’ll call them and ask about the bridge.”

“Yeah, and also ask them whether William Pike’s house is a museum,” Joe said.

“This is Danvers, not Salem. We’ll stick to stuff in this area.”

Joe sighed, but he agreed.

 

Deirdre flopped onto her bed and closed her eyes. _Finally_ the day was over. She toyed with the idea of calling Ned, but he was also knee-deep in college work, so she decided to let him ring first. If he did.

After she’d regained some of her energy, she realised that her phone was probably low on battery, and set it to charge. Then she wandered out to her desk.

People had been murmuring things about Mei, even during class. Not during the exams, the one time in her life she’d be grateful for sitting two tests in one day. If this continued she’d end up stabbing someone with a pen, and while there wasn’t a law prohibiting that exact thing, there were laws about assault. Somehow Deirdre didn’t think ‘But s/he really deserved it for badmouthing my friend’ would cut it in court.

She saw that her notebook was askew on her desk. That’s right. The Harvey boys, or whoever they were. Nancy’s detective friends. They were here to help out, for some reason. Deirdre had everything under control, but she had other responsibilities, so having someone else to shoulder some of the grunt work would get the case over with sooner, and Mei could get on in life without any more accusations of witchcraft.

Her phone rang from the other room. She flopped on her bed again, and picked up the phone, still plugged in to charge.

“This is Deirdre,” she said, and yawned widely.

“Tell us about it.”

“And… who’s this?”

“Joe. Joe Hardy. We met this morning?”

“Oh yeah. What’ve you got for me?”

She thought she heard someone in the background mutter ‘Unbelievable.’ Rude.

“Okay, so we followed up some of the places on your list that were in Salem Village, which is now Danvers,” Joe said. “Part of it is Danvers, anyway. We found Old Meeting House Road, which is now Hobart Street, and we _think_ it was supposed to lead us to Hadlock’s Bridge. You know how the key has ‘HAD LOCK’ written on it? We think that’s what it was referring to. Unfortunately, Hadlock’s Bridge doesn’t seem to be there anymore, and Danvers Historical Society wasn’t answering the phone, so we couldn’t ask them. We found the archives at the Peabody Library, though. The guy there promised to look up some stuff for us.”

“Did he say when he’d have something?” she asked.

“No, but we gave him our phone number and the kind of things we were looking for. He suggested that ‘Laura’ might be referring to Laura Ingersoll. She was a Canadian heroine in the war of eighteen-twelve. One of her ancestors was Nathanial Ingersoll, who was one of the accusers in the witch trials. The Ingersoll family had a property on Old Meeting House Road. And it’s still there!”

“Great. So what did you find out?”

“We looked around for awhile, until we checked the stoop at the front door. We used a crowbar to lift it up. Once all the bugs escaped,” Deirdre wrinkled her nose at the thought, “we dug around a bit, and found a tiny medicine bottle with a note inside.”

“Have you opened it?” she said.

“Not yet. Then we returned to Salem and checked William Pike’s house on Crombie Street, since he was a friend of Nathaniel Hawthorne. The door stoop was also original with the house, and guess what? Another bottle.”

“We almost got caught,” Frank added loudly.

“So what else did you find?” Deirdre asked. “Did you check ‘x marks the spot’?”

“Yeah, that’s why we returned to Salem,” Joe said. “So we could pick up swimming gear. We parked the car on Spring Street, walked along a lane, and had to get through some bushes. But we got to the lake, went scuba diving, and found what looks like another puzzle box. It’s covered in grime, so we gave it a quick wash in the river, and it’s drying out in the back of the car at the moment. Let’s hope it’s waterproof.”

“So Hadlock’s Bridge is a dead end?” she said.

“We’ll wait to hear from the guy at the archives. But if we can locate where the bridge used to be, something might be buried there.”

“Okay, well, you did pretty good, so thanks. Listen, I’ve got classes tomorrow…”

“We’ll drop the bottles and box off at your place,” Joe said. “I’m gonna apply my charm to Jenna Ravencraft, then look up this Lauren Corey, see whether she’s got anything to do with the case. Find out what her connection is to Nancy. Frank’s gonna hit the library or archives in Salem and see if he can find out whether we know anyone else descended from people involved in the trials.”

“That could be half the town,” Deirdre said. “That was only _one_ idea I had. I think we should concentrate on the MMO of each person. There may be more people who should be on the list. I’ll write up a list of everyone who might have a grudge against Mei, but honestly? So many people are scared of her, but I don’t know whether any of them would actually do anything. And this could even have something to do with the plans for the Hathorne House tourist thing. The fire didn’t total the place. Why don’t you get the police report or something? Use your law enforcement connections, if you have any. I’m exhausted, and I have another long day tomorrow.”

“We’ll be over soon,” Joe said. “We can discuss the case further when we get there.”

He hung up before Deirdre could discourage them from interrupting her attempted nap. Okay, so she needed to have a meal, brush up for the one exam she had tomorrow, and make sure her homework was done. Then she wanted to check in with Mei, and find out how she was doing. It’d be nice if Ned contacted her before bedtime, though maybe not with Joe and Frank Hardy around. He knew them, and if he said anything about dating Deirdre, especially with Nancy still missing…

The brothers did arrive shortly afterwards, while Deirdre was heating noodles in the microwave. She answered the door, then emptied the noodles into a bowl.

“The box is mostly dry now,” Frank said. “Do you have any cleaning supplies? We might be able to make out whatever’s on the top of the box.”

“Uh… there might be something under the kitchen sink? Not that it’s much of a kitchen. I let the hospitality students clean here once a month so they gain real world experience, and I pay them to do it. And keep their mouths shut.”

“Looks like they bring their own,” Joe said, checking the cupboard. Nothing here.”

“You’re trusting,” Frank said, narrowing his eyes.

“No, I’m not,” Deirdre said. “All my important stuff that I don’t take out with me stays in a safe under my bed. I don’t think any of the hospitality students know how to crack a safe, so it’s… safe.” She shrugged, and tucked into her noodles.

“We could do a tracing,” Frank said. “Do you have paper and pencils?”

“Desk drawer, top one.”

Joe checked the cutlery drawer while Frank fetched the paper. It seemed that Joe was looking for something to open the small bottles. Frank did a tracing of the top of the box, after drying it with a sheet of paper towel.

“Gotcha,” Joe said, opening the first bottle. He opened the second one while Frank studied the tracing.

“It says ‘Her second name’ on the bottom of the frame,” he said. “Laura’s second name, maybe?”

“How should I know?” Deirdre said. “You’re the ones who’ve been following up on my notes.”

Frank checked the page on his phone.

“Her married name was Secord,” he said. “Looks like these tiles are actually letters. We could definitely spell out Secord with them. There’s no L or N, so it can’t be Ingersoll or Hawthorne. Or Hathorne.”

“Go to it,” Deirdre said.

Frank pressed each of the letters in order, and instead of a drawer, something unlocked the top of the box. He removed it, and found a sheaf of papers – thankfully dry – bundled together with old string.

“Anyone wanna know what the notes say?” Joe asked, waving the two pieces of paper he’d extracted from the bottles with tweezers.

“Well, these seem to be in code, so yeah,” Frank said. “Go ahead.”

“Code?” Deirdre said. “Ugh. Why can’t this just be like a police procedural? Nice, clean detective work. No musty old codes and puzzle boxes to solve.”

“They didn’t have DNA testing in the eighteen hundreds.”

“Yeah, but they do _now_. The problem was that the police couldn’t find anything definitive at the crime scene. Any clues would’ve been washed away when they put out the fire. They’ve had to rely on the testimony of a kid who was hallucinating thanks to smoke fumes. He’s probably been pointed at Mei by his parents to… I don’t know. Ruin the family? It happened in the witch trials.”

“If anyone’s interested, these have numbers,” Joe said. “One has the numbers going across, and one has numbers going down.”

“What, like one of those picture puzzles?” Frank asked. “Like a nonogram?”

“Uh… probably?”

“Then we need to find the grid.”

“We could just make one? It looks like it’s five by ten.”

“You do whatever you have to do,” Deirdre said. “I’m busy and I’m tired.”

“Could we have the key?” Frank said. “In case we find anything we need to unlock.”

Deirdre chewed her bottom lip.

“No,” she said eventually. “You might lose it. Ask me when you need it. Just… go find somewhere to sleep. You’ve done a lot today. I don’t usually say this… but thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Joe said. “Come on, Frank. We’ve gotta make some calls.”

“Bye,” Frank said, waving as they walked out the door.

Deirdre kept eating her noodles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That got kind of out of control as well, didn’t it?
> 
> I’m waiting to hear back from a couple of historians about Hadlock’s Bridge, but if anyone reading this story knows anything about Danvers, or lives in or near there, maybe you could be so kind as to provide some information? I’m trying to keep this as accurate as I can, but stuff will be made up if I can’t find the information I need. Fair warning.
> 
> Please review!


	18. Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The drone is nearly ready for testing, and now the team knows where to start searching for Nancy, depending upon how quickly they finish the field tests.
> 
> As for the team in River Heights, Fenton is glad that they've at least gotten a lot more done than he has. Savannah and Wade are nearly ready to roll, and Bess and George have identified the people who broke into the museum in Guatemala.

Rentaro nearly fell off the bunk bed when his phone buzzed, from where it was tucked under his pillow. He pulled it out, and blinked tiredly at the screen. Then it hit him; his phone was on silent, and it was _ringing_. No message notification. An actual call.

“Hello?” he said. Then he remembered to use the answer button. “This is Rentaro.”

“Hi, this is Savannah.”

“Oh,” he said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “Good morning, Savannah. Uh, I think it is morning?”

“Might be a bit early where you are, but I just _had_ to tell you the news. Check your email. We now know the type of ship Nancy’s in, and where it’s been. We think they’re circumnavigating North America. I’ve emailed you all the details, including a picture of the note which was left in a bottle.”

“Uh… okay?”

“This should help y’all out when that drone’s ready. Bye!”

She hung up, and Rentaro flopped back onto the pillow. He should probably get up now. If it was too early, he could play Aggregation. It was one of the more enjoyable past-times in the lab, especially with Grey stomping around and keeping a suspicious eye on Rentaro.

Sighing, he sat up again, and twisted around so that his feet met the floor. They’d told him that Nancy had used this room when she had stayed to solve the murder of Niko Jovic. Rentaro hoped she hadn’t felt lonely or scared. She probably felt both at the moment, trapped by criminals who wanted her to find treasure.

To think he could have been on that ship, and maybe helped her out. It would be dangerous, but it would also be worth it if Miwako finally forgave him.

He went to the bathroom, showered, and dressed. Then he shuffled into the living room and helped himself to cereal. He noticed a random pink paw on the table, and realised that Ryan had taken apart the robotic cat again.

“Mason really should stop tormenting her,” he mused aloud. “I wonder if Miwako would like a pink cat, or if she prefers Suki to look real?”

Refreshed by breakfast, he spent an hour playing Aggregation, and then headed upstairs to Ryan’s workshop. She was bent over her motorcycle, adjusting something with a wrench.

“Good morning,” he said, and he yawned. “Oh, I am sorry. My phone woke me early. There was no point going back to sleep.”

“I know what you mean,” Ryan said, straightening up. She wiped her forehead, leaving a greasy smear behind. “Sometimes I just can’t stop thinking about Nancy. I can’t even play with my gummie bears anymore, when I remember how hard I made it for her to have a few. The guilt chews me up inside, even more than when Niko died because of… but that wasn’t my fault. It _wasn’t_ my fault.” She repeated this mantra a few more times, hands curled into fists at her sides. Then she opened her eyes and smiled. “Okay. We should continue field-testing that drone. Did Savannah say when she’d be up with a DNA sample?”

“No,” Rentaro said. “Or maybe she did in her email. I should check it out.” He found his phone in the wrong pocket, and unlocked the screen. “They have details about the ship Nancy is on. Someone left a note in a bottle, and it was found… I think. I was still half-asleep when Savannah called.”

“We’ll really have to get on with the field-testing, then,” Ryan said. “But this is a _huge_ step forward. It’ll narrow down what we have to search for. Maybe we won’t even need the drone, and they’ll find the ship first! Wouldn’t that be great?”

“Yeah,” Rentaro said, though his heart sank. Yes, he wanted Nancy to be found as soon as possible. But he had enjoyed working in the Technology of Tomorrow Today laboratory. He wanted to know if his drone worked. If it did, it could be used for other kidnapping cases. If Nancy was found too soon, the team might give up on it, and Rentaro… would have failed. Again.

“Hey.” Ryan squeezed his shoulder. “You came up with a great idea, and you did so much of the initial work on your own. We’ll get this drone field-tested, and see if the police can do anything with it. If they think there’ll be a practical application, and if they can afford to buy the drone, this could revolutionise missing persons cases. And if we could include something where the drone can also identify whether someone is alive, then cases where a ransom has been offered for a safe return will be… well, the people won’t have to pay a ransom if the perp isn’t gonna follow through. You’ve done a great thing coming up with this drone. So even if we don’t get to test it on Nancy, it _won’t_ have been a waste of anyone’s time. Okay?”

“Okay,” Rentaro said, and he bowed slightly. “Thank you, Ryan.”

She smiled, and let him go. “Let’s get Mason down here. I think he had some new ideas about being able to use the drone to call someone’s phone, like creating a diversion so the person can escape. And Ellie suggested including basic first aid supplies, but we’ll have to do a few adjustments so the drone can still operate without being dragged down, or the electronics being affected in any way…”

Rentaro followed her to the workbench, where the latest model of his drone rested, a remote beside it. Obviously they wanted to be able to control the drone from a phone; if they had to get close enough to use a remote, that would remove the element of stealth. They’d managed to reduce the noise that the drone made by ninety-five percent, and Grey was working on cloaking technology to make it invisible.

Sometimes he told Yumi what he was doing, and asked her to keep Miwako and Takae up to date on the drone’s progress. He was unsure whether Miwako would welcome his emails or text messages, so he didn’t bother her with them.

If they didn’t get back together, perhaps he’d move to Colorado? The people at the lab welcomed his ideas, and Ryan and Ellie were friendly. He got on well with Mason, who could never be considered friendly, but at least understood Rentaro in a way no one ever had before. Grey behaved the same way to everyone, but he was a great leader, and had already suggested that if Rentaro did not have his heart set on New York he would be welcome to work at the lab any time.

So Rentaro might just do that. Miwako loved the ryokan; Rentaro loved science. He loved her as well, but he could not live at the Ryokan Hiei forever.

 

Fenton arrived the next morning, worn out and unsatisfied. His last-ditch attempt at finding information had petered out, and all they could do was wait.

He’d kept up with all the updates on the group messenger, and was pleased by everyone’s progress. He’d even taken a break in a motel to watch the interview with Bess and George. George had done the most talking, since she was clearly the calmer of the two girls, whereas Bess’s face got a lot of close-ups for the emotional factor. It was a good effort, overall, and they hadn’t given away anything about the case outside of what was already known to the general public. The interviewer didn’t seem to know anything about the tabloid magazines’ speculation regarding who might been involved with the disappearance. And no mention was made of the Greek ship, which they were _all_ planning to keep secret for now.

He was glad that his sons were making progress in Massachusetts. There was nothing Fenton could do for them at the moment, so he let them distract themselves from worrying about Nancy. He’d spoken to Joe over the phone, and warned him to keep an extra close eye on Frank. And both of them were under orders to check up on Ned from time to time, and make sure he was coping with Nancy’s abduction.

He arrived to a fairly placid scene at the Drew household. George and Bess were at the computer, comparing pictures from the Guatemalan museum robbery with suspects known to be at large. Hannah, Charleena, and Logan were bent over a pile of books, including the ones Joe had bought at the airport. Alexei and Carson were… nowhere to be seen. When he investigated the noises coming from the kitchen, he found Wade and Savannah cooking something which smelled, quite frankly, delicious, and made his stomach grumble.

“Evenin’, Fenton,” Wade said, stirring something which resembled home-cooked chilli. Savannah was mixing something in a microwave bowl.

“How are you?” Savannah said. “Eaten anythin’ yet?”

“Not since breakfast,” Fenton said. “I wanted to get back here as soon as possible. Does coffee for lunch count?”

“Not at _all_ ,” Savannah said. “Tell Logan t’ set the table, will you? Then take a load off. I know you’ve been sittin’ down to drive, but it’s not a relaxin’ thing by any means. We’ll let y’all know when dinner’s ready.”

Fenton obeyed, and sank onto the couch with a groan. He checked the messages which had come in on his phone that he hadn’t had time to check since getting onto the motorway. Joe was wondering whether Fenton could track down the ancestors of some of the people around during the witch trials. Frank had tried, but many people had moved to other parts of Massachusetts, or even other states and territories, and the genealogy websites wouldn’t tell them anything about people still alive.

“Where are Dagny and Tino?” he asked.

“Dagny’s sleeping in Nancy’s room at the moment,” Hannah said. “She’s been calling around her Canadian and treasure-hunting contacts all day, and exhausted herself waiting for them to call back. Tino’s at the police station, getting updates and passing on everything we’ve heard.”

“And Carson and Alexei?”

Hannah paused.

“Carson took one look at the calendar at work today, and had to come home,” she said softly. “Alexei’s keeping an eye on him, just in case he… gets too upset.”

Fenton was used to his boys being in danger, and sometimes felt guilty that his career as a police detective had somehow infected his boys. Or maybe he passed on a love of solving crimes to them. Either way, he felt responsible whenever they got into danger, even though he’d constantly badgered them to try something else. Joe tried to hold onto a mechanical apprenticeship, but he found it hard to work ordinary hours, and preferred to fix cars as a hobby. Frank was in the middle of a college course when Nancy went missing, and he’d put a hold on his classes until she was found, which he’d have to catch up on soon or he’d miss all the make-up exams during the holidays. The college had accepted his excuse, but they boys had put their lives on hold for cases before, and Fenton didn’t like their chances of staying the course in anything if they kept putting off other responsibilities to fight crime.

Carson had nothing to do with Nancy’s career choice, though. Fenton hadn’t known Kate, but after hearing that she’d been a spy… she’d obviously passed on some traits, and Carson’s desire to see justice done was also evident in Nancy’s pursuit of solving mysteries. Kate had died when Nancy was still young, and neither parent would have pushed Nancy towards a job they knew to be dangerous. Spying wasn’t really for Nancy, but then neither was a career in law enforcement.

So while Fenton could relate in some ways to Carson’s worry, and the guilt over being partially responsible for their children’s predilection towards crime-solving, at least Frank and Joe had each other, and were far more cynical than Nancy. And as far as Fenton knew, she’d never taken a class in self-defence in her life. She rarely busted big-time criminals, and gave too many second chances. Those second chances may have served her well in at least two cases, with Soren and Rentaro doing whatever they could to help; but Nancy was one girl against a lot of powerful, professional, _dangerous_ criminals. Even if she had Beatrice Hotchkiss and Henrik van der Hune with her, they were both older academics, not used to hand-to-hand combat, either.

Tino arrived back in time for dinner, which was beef chilli, roast potatoes, and garlic bread with real home-made garlic butter. Fenton wasn’t surprised to see Carson’s red eyes or Alexei’s worried expression. Fortunately, Bess broke the tense silence.

“George and I think we know who broke into that museum,” she said.

“Who was it?” Logan asked quickly. He was probably eager to have something positive to talk about, as well as trying to get on Bess’s good side again.

“We think the guy in the picture might be Nico Petit,” George said. “It’s not the first time he’s broken into a secure gallery-type place, although he didn’t take anything this time. The Guatemalan police estimated the thieves’ heights, and he’d definitely match one of them, according to what the GDiF sent us.”

“The other two are girls, we think,” Bess said. “The way one of them moved fits with Lori Girard.” Fenton noticed that Tino looked up at that, wide-eyed. “We even went onto the internet and watched videos of her. It’s all in the arms, y’know. And there were flashes of pink beneath the black clothes, which is her signature colour. She never went to jail, even though she _should’ve_ done, but her dad cut off her credit cards and told her to support herself. We’re not sure what she’s been doing since the Blue Moon Canyon case, but she’d done her research into Jake Hurley, so she’s got experience with that. And she definitely hated Nancy for splashing her with mud. And exposing Lori’s crimes.”

“I broke up with Lori after that,” Tino said. “I know that she got a job at one of her father’s companies. He was still having to support her, but at least she was working for it. We fell out of touch quickly. I couldn’t have that kind of tie, not in my position.”

“So who do you think the third person in the picture is?” Fenton asked.

“Going by the hairstyle, we’re thinking it’s Corine Myers,” George said. “She didn’t go to jail either, but she was expelled and her academic reputation ruined. She’s got excellent research skills, though, so if anyone was gonna be the research ninja of the trio, it’d be her. She’s the one who leads them to exactly the right place in the building, which means she might’ve staked it out. _Or_ she just has a lot of experience with museums and libraries. Her height fits, and you can’t see little patches of really white skin when her shirt rides up the way you can with Lori and Nico.”

“Can I see one of the pictures?” Tino asked. Bess passed one across the table. “Yeah, that’s Lori. I didn’t notice it before, because it’s been a couple-a years since I last saw her, but that’s her alright. So they sent you footage, not just pictures?”

“A few clips,” George said. “The clearer sections of video. It helped us identify Lori, actually. Bess recognised her first. That’s when we took a closer look at the images, and at the estimated height. It looks like she’s wearing some kind of heels.”

“That’d be Lori. Why go for practicality when you can go for style?”

“Carson, we were thinking about starting for Colorado tomorrow,” Savannah said.

“Then we’ll get a few samples of… of Nancy’s hair for you,” Carson said.

“I can do that,” Fenton said. “I’ve got supplies in my car for bagging evidence. It’ll give the cleanest reading possible.”

“It might take a few days,” Savannah said. “But keep us posted. We’ll check the messenger app, but if you need us to do anythin’ else while we’re up that way, just give us a call. Whoever’s not drivin’ at the time will answer.”

“Are they close to having the drone ready?” Hannah asked.

“Not yet, but like Savannah said, it could take a few days,” Wade said. “After we’ve dropped off the samples, we thought we’d drive over to the Four Corners Monument, and stay near there.”

“If you visit Arizona, be sure to visit Shadow Ranch,” Bess said. “That’s where Aunt Bet and Uncle Ed live.”

“Don’t they leave for the rodeo soon?” George said. Bess’s shoulders slumped.

“That’s right,” she said. “Well… maybe you’ll see them around somewhere.”

“If we meet them, we’ll let you know,” Wade said. Savannah patted his hand where it rested beside hers, and she smiled up at him. There was a woman in love.

Fenton missed his wife. He’d call her tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I forgot that Fenton’s wife is called Laura, and when the boys were thinking about who ‘Laura’ might be in the previous chapter they consequently didn’t mention that it was their mother’s name. Oops.
> 
> I’ve since found out that Hadlock’s Bridge has been gone for hundreds of years, possibly before Ruth Hathorne’s time. So I’ll have to work around that. It’s okay; I’ve got ideas. Which have involved trying to track down any descendents of John Hadlock, who lived near the bridge during the time of the witch trials. It seems that the line has mostly continued in the modern day through daughters, so one of his descendents could be someone from one of the games.
> 
> Suggestions, folks? Or I’ll just pick someone out of a hat. Possibly a literal hat, because I’ve got enough of them which are perfect for occasions such as these.
> 
> Please review!


	19. Not So Land Ho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy continues to die of boredom, Henrik continues to research, Hotchkiss continues to 'snore', and Soren and Colin both continue to worry.
> 
> In other words, just another day aboard the Greek cargo ship 'Sleuth'. Damn. I should've called it the Sleuth Sloop.

Nancy was bored. The only change had been when they were provided with extra blankets after they entered colder waters. But the relief was short-lived when all of them had to hand over their clothes to be washed, since some of the guards had complained about the smell when Nancy and Henrik were working in the fourth cell.

“Maybe we should be allowed out in the fresh air, instead of always being stuck down here,” Nancy pointed out to Dwayne. He pretended to ignore her, but he scowled nonetheless, so clearly her words had got through. Unfortunately, nothing changed, and they had to stay downstairs, shivering for days, until the ship turned sometime during the night and they gradually got warmer. It was only comparative warmth, but Nancy’s mind had tricked her into thinking that she was practically in a tropical paradise. Until she’d look around her prison and remember where she was.

It wasn’t a pleasant reminder, but it kept her focussed on getting out of there.

Someone must have told whoever was in charge that the prisoners needed to be kept healthy, or risk having to be rushed to the hospital or die aboard ship. Because the meals were gradually heartier. Judging by his blush the first time Nancy commented on it to Colin, she suspected that he was responsible for the change.

He tended to bring hers last, and lingered nearby while she ate. Nancy had taken to eating standing up, when she could, and talking about anything mindless that she could think of. Nothing that could get him into trouble. The single time she asked about the weather, Dwayne barked at her to shut up, so she didn’t risk it again. It’d be easy to tell whether there was rain or hail or snow, so she assumed they’d had sunshine. And wind… yes, windy weather was easiest to pick up, and could lead to her hugging the toilet bowl in case.

Nancy wouldn’t be taking any more cases involving sea travel for a _long_ time.

“Colin,” she said. “Or do you prefer Justin?”

“Whatever you wish to call me, Nancy, I will accept,” he said.

“Well… Colin, I was just wondering where we were.”

“We…?”

“The ship. It was cold for nearly a week there, but it’d take a long time to get to the South Pole, and we haven’t felt the heat of the Equator, so Henrik, Hotchkiss, and I figured we were either North of Canada, Alaska, or somewhere near Europe. But none of us know enough about cargo ship speeds to be able work out where we could be, and we can’t see outside so we don’t even know which direction we’re headed.”

“I… I’m not entirely sure, Nancy,” Colin said. “Even if I knew, I don’t know whether I could tell you. I’ll ask, but—”

“What am I supposed to be able to do with that information?” Nancy asked. She couldn’t help feeling incredulous. “They monitor the computer I use, and I’m not allowed anywhere near a phone, or a pen and paper. There’s no way for me to communicate any information to the outside world. You haven’t allowed Henrik or Hotchkiss to call their friends again for more information, so they can’t tell anyone. And you saw what happened to Henrik when he mentioned being at sea. He ended up badly beaten! Do you think any of us want that again?”

Colin sighed.

“I’ll try, Nancy, I promise,” he said. “You’re right, of course. There’s no way you can tell anyone where we are, and the ship is always on the move, so… I’ll be back in a few minutes. Please eat up.”

Nancy sat down to wait, and continued to eat the delicious stew. It reminded her of something… a campfire…

“Shorty,” she whispered. Shorty Thurmond had made this. Lamb ragout, he’d called it. Then the ‘phantom’ horse had come along only seconds later. Where he’d gotten the lamb from… it must’ve been in storage for a special occasion, because they mainly had fish, easy to catch in the middle of the ocean.

No matter how good Shorty’s food was, especially to the starving, Nancy still couldn’t wait to get back home to Hannah’s cooking.

After the people of River Heights had turned on her, she’d wondered whether it was even worth staying around if they didn’t trust her. But she’d grown up there, and Alexei had stayed for years after his reputation was ruined. Sure, it was in hopes of clearing his name – and Nancy was so proud that her father had helped him with that – but he’d been brave. She could be brave, too. People had apologised, both to her and to Alexei, and he’d accepted graciously.

It still stung, though. And as much as she missed her home town, it was her loved ones that she missed the most, and some of those loved ones lived in Bayport. Her Aunt Eloise lived in Florida, Moira lived in Scotland, and Ned… who knew whether he’d return to River Heights?

Nancy had probably lost all her chances with Ned. He’d been patient for too long, and it took Anja’s revenge on Markus to make Nancy realise that something really was wrong with their relationship. Ned gave too much, and Nancy just didn’t give back enough. It wasn’t equal, it wasn’t _balanced_. And that bothered Nancy. She could talk to the Hardy brothers for hours about mysteries, but while Ned listened politely, she knew it didn’t interest him as much. Now she wished she’d spent more time talking to him about his college course. She’d been selfish, and so she’d chosen to let him go. After concealing her regret for months, she managed to believe that she was over it. And she was. They’d continued as friends, and Nancy had spent so little time on dates with Ned that the only real difference to their relationship was that they were no longer called boyfriend and girlfriend.

“I _hate_ this,” she muttered. “I’m not used to so much retrospection. And I _really_ should stop talking to myself out loud.”

She finished eating, and waited for Colin to return. Hotchkiss was snoring again, and Nancy wondered how she managed to fall asleep so easily. It must’ve been the rocking motion of the ship which lulled her to sleep. That and a full stomach, because it seemed to happen the most around mealtimes.

“Nancy?” Colin said, looking through the bars. Nancy placed her bowl, spoon, and cup by the cat door. “Thanos said I could tell you that we’re rounding Alaska.”

“So we passed Canada?”

“It seems so. I’m not familiar enough with America to recognise the landscape, but I would have recognised England if we’d passed the UK, so I suspected that we were near America. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing more I can tell you.”

“It’s alright,” Nancy said, clutching the bars. “I’m glad to know anything. And now I can imagine where we might be up to as we go along, which will give me something to do whenever I’m bored. Which is most of the time, when Henrik’s not giving us Spanish lessons.”

Colin touched her fingers, and then stooped to collect her lunch things. Their eyes met again, before he turned to fetch the other bowls and cups. He hurried up the stairs without a backwards glance, followed by one of the many guards Nancy recognised, but didn’t know. Maybe they weren’t allowed to use names in front of her?

With a heartfelt sigh, she sank down on her bed again, and waited for Hotchkiss to wake up from her nap so Henrik could get back to teaching them.

“I’ll get home as soon as I can, Dad,” she whispered. “Don’t give up.”

 

No one had mentioned seeing the bottles Soren had dropped into the water, and he kept up his mask of unwavering affability. As long as they didn’t think of him as a threat, he’d be okay. As long as any news about the ship being identified didn’t link back to him, he’d be okay.

He helped the crew haul up more fish. Andy Jason continued to walk around with an escort, often a blank smile on his face. Talking about the ship could liven him up, but then he’d get this fiery look in his eyes and start muttering incomprehensibly about trained whales and shipwrecks full of fur. Soren usually stopped listening after that, only tuning back in if ‘a nosy teenage detective’ was mentioned. That’s when he’d usually be led away again, back to the crew cabins.

Colin left the galley, bringing coolers of ice with him. He set them down as the men sorted out the fish, and he crouched beside Soren to help him find the best ones to freeze for meals. The largest were hauled away by hand, and the rest were thrown back into the water.

“Do you enjoy cooking?” Soren asked as they both washed their hands with round stones of metal to remove the smell of fish.

“Shorty does most of the cooking,” Colin said. “I do preparation, and take the food down to… the cargo.” Soren knew he meant the hostages, and nodded. “I wouldn’t say I enjoy the preparation that much, but it’s even harder seeing Nancy cooped up like that. Behind bars, as it were.”

Soren wasn’t sure whether this was a test.

“Some might call it karmic retribution, for the number of other people _she’s_ put behind bars,” he said carefully.

“Perhaps,” Colin said. “When I knew her she was working with the GDiF, and I later heard that she had to steal a valuable sapphire. Not to mention breaking into an office, disguising herself as someone else, and I’ve heard that there are other instances of breaking-and-entering and ‘borrowing’,” he created speech marks with his fingers, “items in pursuit of revealing culprits. I suppose we could consider that she’s being punished for those offences. I certainly only stole the once, and I was in jail for much longer than she’s been in the cargo hold. I could have visitors, but… well, no one visited me. And then I had to change my name.”

“Really?” Soren said, arching his eyebrows. “To what?”

“The one you know,” Colin said, and he smiled. “I’m trying to separate myself from that life, but I suppose that sort of thing never really leaves you, does it?”

Soren’s own smile faded.

“I guess not,” he said quietly.

 

Soren was sent down later with more print-outs for Henrik and Nancy’s research, and he lingered by Nancy’s cell while Henrik was led to the other room.

“Soren?” Nancy whispered, so softly he thought he was hearing things. Then he realised she really had spoken his name, and moved his eyes to let her see that he was listening. She stood near the door, just out of sight of everyone else. “I know I’m not your favourite person in the world, but… there aren’t many people on this ship that I can trust. I’m pretty sure the cook hates me, I know Dwayne and Thanos do…”

“Mmm-hmm?” That was all he could manage; he wasn’t a ventriloquist.

“We’re headed South, towards the American coast,” she said. “When we pass Canada we’ll be near Washington state. I want Henrik and Hotchkiss off this ship. I can’t keep worrying about them. My friend, George, she has a friend who lives in Snake Horse Harbour, in the San Juan Islands. Katie Firestone.”

“Mmm?”

“When it’s dark… promise you’ll try to get the others off the ship and to safety. I think I saw lifeboats. Or if there are inflatable ones, use one of those. Please, Soren.”

He shifted position so his back was to the rest of the room, but it just looked like he was moving impatiently. He tilted his head so it was turned towards the door.

“I can’t do it alone,” he muttered. “Who can I trust?”

“Colin. He used to be called Justin. He had a crush on me when I was in Venice, I think. I certainly never put him in jail. If you trust anyone, it’s him. _Please_. Get Hotchkiss and Henrik off this boat. Even if Henrik hasn’t finished his translation yet. Can you do this for me?”

The door beside them slammed shut, and Soren had to speak over the rattle of keys.

“I’ll try,” he promised. He heard Nancy’s quiet sob.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Soren walked swiftly to the stairs, following the Greek guard who’d assisted with transferring Henrik from one room to the other. The stairs gave him time to school his features, and to think this through.

He’d already compromised his life by trying to get a message to Elisabet and Magnus, and by not showing outright contempt for Nancy. He’d managed to keep up a show of hostility thinking about the residents of Skipbrot, and talked about his eagerness to leave that town and its people behind. But that was all.

Was Colin sounding him out for Nancy? Had Soren let his guard slip enough for Colin to reassure Nancy that Soren could help them out? Had anyone _else_ caught it yet, or was Soren just catastrophising things? (A useful word he’s learned from his court-appointed therapist.) Maybe Colin had figured that Soren was the only other sane member of the crew, and needed someone to talk to so desperately that he risked _his_ own life by reaching out to Soren. Best case scenario.

 

“None of Fray Marcos’s belongings were kept in Peru,” Henrik said. “Not even in any museums. It seems that the disgrace of the failed mission to find Cibola with Coronado caused them to send his things to Guatemala after his death was reported, and the authorities there put them in storage for a long time. Fortunately the Guatemalans had more respect for historical items, and they were taken out of storage about a hundred years later. His report to Mendoza had been kept in Tenochtitlan, as it was called then. I’m rather surprised they didn’t burn it to ashes. But Marcos had spread religion around quite widely, doing that part of his job well enough to satisfy the church. Exploration was more of a hobby for him than a profession.”

“I know how that feels,” Nancy said.

“He was not as successful in his hobbies as you have been. Although he would have appreciated the acquisition of knowledge more than the conquistadors did. They were so desperate to find more gold that their disappointment in not finding it completely overshadowed their success as explorers. They found the Grand Canyon, for goodness sake! Talk about an accomplishment.”

“Well, the native Americans already knew about the Grand Canyon,” she said. “They would’ve had their own name for it.”

“Quite.”

“So what’re you reading now?”

“An account of what happened to Doña Isabel after her third husband’s death, and the fate of her children. Her descendents are too numerous to trace, and I doubt she would have left any clues with them. Fray Marcos was in charge of hiding her father’s treasure, after all.”

“And he had no descendents.”

“Certainly not. He abhorred the notion of betraying his vows for, as his journal puts it, ‘earthly pleasures,’ if you’ll excuse me mentioning it, Nancy.”

“I find it hard to be shocked by anything anymore, Henrik.”

“He wrote that he planned to leave clues from the shore inwards. So we shouldn’t need to travel the entire length of the Jornada del Muerto, or Journey of the Dead Man. There’s probably a motorway through there by now, which would cover any existing clues. If we take his travelling point from approximately San Diego, we should start there. The question is, does San Diego have any sufficiently ancient buildings he might have used to hide Moctezuma the Second’s treasure?”

“I have a friend named Emily in San Francisco, but she could be away for her job. And the earthquake in… nineteen-oh-six? It destroyed a lot of historical records, and might’ve even compromised the integrity of the buildings. But that’s San Francisco, not San Diego.”

“I might look it up online while I’m in here.” After a couple of minutes, he hummed thoughtfully. “San Diego was claimed for the Spanish twenty-two years after the failed expedition, and two years after El Toro wrote his journal. It doesn’t seem as though much was done there at the time, although this is merely one website. Let’s return to the search engine… ‘oldest landmarks in San Diego’…” A few more minutes passed, nearly four, and then Henrik snorted. “Typical. Their idea of old is the eighteen hundreds! Alright, ‘ _natural_ landmarks in San Diego’. Aha! This is more like it. Torrey Pines State Natural Reserve. Fifteen hundred acres… unspoiled beaches… reserve, not a park… groups of more than twenty-five need a permit…”

“Twenty-five of us would be a bit conspicuous,” Nancy remarked.

“Yes. But this seems to be the best place.”

“I think the idea is to follow El Toro’s map.”

“We could have done that by plane or road and been finished by now,” Henrik said. “I’m taking the designated time to prepare. When we can be armed with nothing else, Nancy, we must be armed with knowledge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aka the chapter where I mention actual internet searches I did during the course of writing this chapter, because I’m super unprepared at times. Info from the official website for the Torrey Pines State Natural Reserve.
> 
> I’m starting to realise how ridiculous it was to start on this story, but I find that I can’t stop, to my dismay. Really, they should’ve gone by plane, but then Dwayne’s plans are so convoluted. A lot of the villains – if not all – are like that, so I guess it fits with the spirit of the Nancy Drew games. How much easier (or harder) would the mysteries be to solve if the villains didn’t come up with stupid plots that can be unravelled so easily?
> 
> Anyway. Please review!


	20. New News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are afoot, mostly of the non-villainous variety. And mostly aboard. But Nancy's friends on land are preparing for her return, whenever - and however - it will happen.

“Time to set off, Bet!” Ed called.

“I’m coming!” Bet called back. “Just on the phone! Now, sheriff, you’ll make sure someone comes around to feed the chickens and check on the place? Thank you. It’s a bit silly of all of us going away like this, but Ed’s determined to see a rodeo, and ever since he lost all his sense and grabbed at that rattler, I can’t trust him to tie his own shoes. Thank you, sheriff. No, we haven’t heard anything more about Nancy. The girls still call every other day, but we don’t know anything more than what they said on that interview. Right, you know where the key is, don’t you? That’s right. We’ll be back in two weeks, if everything goes well. If Ed and I go to see our family instead, Dave, Tex, and Mary will still be coming back, and they can hold down the fort until we return. Bye, sheriff.”

She hung up, made sure the key to the house was secure under one of the pot plants, and trotted down the stairs. They were taking two cars and trailers to carry the three horses and five humans. Ed was forbidden from driving, in case they got lost, which left Dave and Mary as the two drivers. Mary and Tex preferred to be alone together, and took their own horses, leaving Bet and Ed in charge of keeping up Dave’s spirits and looking out for old Bob in the trailer.

“You got room for one more bag?” Mary asked.

“Should just about have room in the other stall,” Bet said, examining the trailer.

“It’s food for the journey,” Mary said, bringing out a basket from behind her back, and handing it to Bet. “Plus a few things to keep you entertained.”

“Oh, Mary, you didn’t have to do _that_. But thank you.”

“If you wanna join us for part of the drive, just call. We’ll have our phones on silent, so it doesn’t startle the horses.”

Bet patted her on the arm.

“It’s your honeymoon, dear,” she said. “We’ll leave you two alone as much as we can. Besides, Dave needs someone to look after him. He’s so worried about Nancy that even Ed’s noticed it.”

They climbed into their respective vehicles, and Bet settled the basket on her lap after buckling in. She made sure that Ed and Dave were both alright, and waited for Tex to give her the all-clear. He gave them a thumbs-up in the rear view mirror, and they set off for Colorado.

 

“Good afternoon, PR,” Krolmeister said, kissing Prudence’s hand. “You’re looking fine today. Would you like to sit down?”

“Thank you, PK,” she said, and she sat opposite him in the restaurant. “You said that you wished to discuss Nancy Drew?”

“I know you’re as concerned as I am,” he said.

“More so. I have associated with her at least three times.”

“But _I_ sent her to Japan,” he replied. “She ran into another mystery there.”

“Never mind that,” Prudence said, waving her hand. “What do you know?”

“I’ve been giving it a lot of thought,” he said. “You know that many American ships are outfitted with my hardware.”

“Of course,” she said. “But what does that have to do with the matter?”

“And you _know_ that they’re saying she’s possibly travelling by sea?”

“As she has not yet been found, or managed to escape, that is a distinct possibility.”

“Well, I’ve been approached by… I guess they’re a couple of spies, but they seem to be on ND’s side. They asked to borrow one of my yachts and go searching for her.”

“That seems to be a sensible solution,” Prudence said. “Provided that the police are not already doing that.”

“Oh, police,” Krolmeister said, rolling his eyes. “They don’t know anything about stealth. But _spies_ , using a civilian’s boat, might get away with it.”

“Hmm.” Prudence frowned, before remembering that it might give her lines. “What if the felons are aware of your brief connection to Nancy? They’ll smell a rat, and _then_ where would your spies be?”

“All out to sea,” he replied, and he slapped the table as he laughed loudly. To think that Prudence had given up an afternoon of working on the sequel to her memoirs to listen to Krolmeister’s terrible – and ill-timed – jokes. She could have had that over the phone while pretending to listen, or asked her assistant to make all the right noises of agreement.

“That is a cavalier attitude to take,” she said primly, and studied the menu in a pointed fashion. “Especially when they are only trying to help.”

“I’ll tell `em you said that,” he said. “And if you think a different boat would be best, I’ll pay for it myself. How’s that for fair?”

She sniffed delicately.

“Oh, very well,” she said. “Was that really all?”

“You know I like spending time with you, Prudence.”

“And you know that I am married.”

“Which husband are you up to now?”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“That is immaterial,” she said.

“But you’re right, I did have something else to tell you,” he said. “The spies are planning to hack into the radios of all ships using Krolmeister hardware and software, in hopes that they’ll pick up word of ND, or the ship she might be on. Do you have her home phone number?”

“Of course n… oh, _yes_. I tracked it down when I needed someone at the Ca’ Nascosta in Venice. You remember, that layabout Margherita Faubourg bought it from me, and refused to maintain the building properly? It nearly fell down around her ears.”

“That was before I met you, PR.”

“I’ll ask my assistant to find it for you when I get home. But why do you wish to have her phone number?”

“I’m hoping her family will know more about the case than the general public,” he said, which was reasonable enough.

“Who are these so-called spies of yours?”

“A guy named Alec – sounds Irish or Scottish, one of those accents – and this really intense goth-girl called Zoe. Course, they might be code names. They both seem worried about ND. I figured if they’re the shady type, they’re either gonna already be involved, or they’d find some way to get involved. If I’m keeping track of them, at least I’ll have something to give the police. Got clean images of them on my security cameras, which I printed out before the footage got wiped. Probably by them.”

“Good heavens! What _have_ you let yourself in for, PK?”

“A little bit more danger in my life,” he said, and he winked. “Does it suit me?”

 

Wade was driving, and pulled over when he noticed something.

“Jewellery store,” he said.

“What?” Savannah asked, coming out of her reverie.

“Should we pick out a ring now, or wait until Nancy’s safely back? `Cause we’re not gettin’ married `til she gets back, so if we get rings now…”

He didn’t have to finish. Savannah knew what he meant. It would be extra insurance, a personal guarantee that Nancy would be alright. Sure, it didn’t really mean anything to anyone else, but the thought brought Savannah’s breathing under control. She relaxed her hands, and imagined the weight of an engagement ring on her left ring finger, tying her in promise to Wade. And the wedding rings having to wait until Nancy came back… and they’d decided to tell Nancy before anyone else, even Wade’s family, so she _had_ to be found.

“I know you want Jessalyn as your maid-of-honour, but Nancy could still be a bridesmaid,” Wade said.

“And you want Harper as your best woman,” Savannah said, smiling. “I’m sure her speech will be the best one of all.”

“It’ll certainly be the most… unique,” he said. “You sure you don’t mind?”

“Just don’t have the wedding on Blackrock Island. I don’t mind livin’ guests, but anyone else, even your cousin Charlotte, might put a bit of a dampener on the day.”

“Yeah, that’d be considered work, and it’ll be a non-workin’ day,” Wade said. “So what kind of colour scheme did ya have in mind, sweetheart?”

“Is this your way of takin’ my mind off Nancy?” Savannah asked.

“Bit hard to forget, when we’re drivin’ all the way to Colorado for her. But we’re not likely to have so much time alone together for awhile, and as soon as Nancy’s rescued we’re gonna start sendin’ out invitations, so we’d better know what’s going on `em.”

“That eager to marry me, huh?” she said, her eyes twinkling.

“Feels like we wasted too much time bein’ apart. If Nancy hadn’t freed Jessalyn and Harper from the fire, and they hadn’t had time to warn us, who knows how many would’ve died that night? And if she hadn’t given me your new phone number…”

“Yeah.” Savannah clutched her handbag closer. She had several samples of Nancy’s hair bagged up, thanks to Fenton, and wasn’t letting them go. Some were in her luggage, Wade had at least two, one in a pocket and one in his wallet. Savannah had hidden more in her handbag, to keep them as safe as possible. The lab would only need one, but they couldn’t risk losing that one sample. Better to have them split up in different places.

“So… any ideas?”

“Hmm? Uh, I’d like some red. I don’t hold with the superstition of it bein’ an inappropriate colour for a wedding.”

“Nancy’s a redhead.”

She sighed.

“Okay, I’m thinkin’ too much about her, I know,” she said. “Green, then. The colour of spring and renewal. Second chances.” She squeezed Wade’s hand. “Like us.”

“I like the sound of that,” he said, and he smiled at her before returning his attention to the road. “What else? Where should the wedding be? Are your family invited?”

They continued to drive until the sky grew dark, and they found a motel to stay the night. The whole time they talked about the upcoming wedding, confident that Nancy would be recovered soon.

 

“Remind me never ta get on your bad side,” Alec remarked, as Zoe cleaned her gun with her stony resting face. “I saw you practising on that punching bag at the gym yesterday. I’m pretty sure I know who you were picturing.”

“You needed that hour on the treadmill,” Zoe said.

“Are you actually planning to shoot someone? You never did that while we were searching for Grace – thanks for that again, by the way – and then taking down Revenant. I’m kinda surprised ta learn you even have a firearm.”

“What part of me being a trained and experienced spy did you not get?” she asked.

“The fake ID cards and all the disguises were a part of that, I knew. But you never so much as tased someone in front of me.”

“Yeah… well, maybe I just didn’t wanna bring violence into your life. And Revenant was grey area. They would’ve taken over the world if they could, and might’ve been benevolent dictators. But we couldn’t take that chance, not with so many lives were on the line. Children, the sick, the elderly.”

He nodded, and continued to flip through the manual on Krolmeister ship radios.

“So you can really hack one of these?” he asked.

“It’s old technology, but it’s also the most reliable in America, which is why people use it,” Zoe said. “It’s more difficult to hack without equally old devices and software. That’s why I’ve sent off for some.” She finished reassembling her revolver, and slipped it into the case. “I’m gonna call Colin. It’s weird that none of us have heard from him, and I’m sick of waiting.”

“I thought your agency already tried,” Alec said.

“They did, and he didn’t answer. But he might answer for me. I was the one who recruited him, and I’m the only one he comes even close to trusting.”

Alec lazed on his bed, wondering where Nancy was and how she was doing, whether she had fought back against her kidnappers at any time and if she was injured. Zoe dialled, waited impatiently, and then heaved a sigh.

“ _Still_ not answering,” she said. “It seems like his phone’s off.”

“Can you leave a message?”

“No, I can’t. He’s turned off that function, which he _doesn’t_ have permission to do.”

“Maybe he’s taken a vacation,” Alec said. It was a ridiculous argument, and Zoe’s withering look confirmed that. She jumped in shock when her phone rang, and answered within two seconds.

“Hello?” she said. Her eyes widened as she listened. Alec sat up slowly, and his heart lifted as she smiled. She hung up a few minutes later.

“Has Nancy been found?” Alec asked eagerly. Zoe’s smile dimmed.

“Not yet,” she said. “But there’s some news.”

“…Well? Tell me!”

“The Icelandic guy Soren called Dagny Silva. He asked her to contact a Katie Firestone in Washington and to be on the lookout for a ‘Sleuth’. Moira told us that was the name of the ship Nancy’s on. There’s going to be ‘some cargo released’, according to Soren. Nancy’s family doesn’t know who this might be referring to, whether it’ll include Nancy. But we might be able to get co-ordinates from Firestone when she picks up the ‘cargo’. That’ll narrow down the location for us, so we can track any radios in the vicinity. _If_ I can hack them.”

“It seems too easy,” Alec said, his brow furrowing.

“I’m not looking _this_ gift horse in the mouth,” she said. “We’re heading up to Washington state as soon as we’ve talked to Krolmeister.”

 

Soren was a bundle of nerves. He’d learnt some Greek by listening to the others, and definitely heard the word ‘America’ mentioned a few times, too. But if he’d spent more time observing the geography of the American coast, this would be easier.

Then he had a surprisingly lucky breakthrough. In the afternoon Andy Jason had been brought out on deck for his usual walk, and he’d been arrested by the distant sight of land. He asked so infrequently for anything that when he demanded binoculars, they were handed over.

“Home!” he exclaimed, pointing.

“Home?” Soren said.

“Washington,” Andy said, his eyes bright and clear for the first time. “I live on Deception Island, Snake Horse Harbour. I run the whale museum.”

“Ah, so that’s why I’ve heard you mention whales,” he said, internally crowing. “I run a museum, all about boats.”

“Yeah.” The light started to fade from Andy’s eyes as he absently handed the binoculars back to his guard. “Home.”

Soren lingered as long as was socially acceptable, and then went in search of Colin, his partner-in-non-crime. The crew were so used to seeing them together, as sort of friends, that it wasn’t unusual to lean against the railings a few feet away from him.

“Tonight,” he said. “We have to do it tonight. Is there any way we can create a distraction? Far away from the cargo hold?”

“Some of the crew usually play cards and get a bit tipsy,” Colin said. “I could sneak something into their drinks. Maybe give them food poisoning? That should cause enough havoc.”

“Do it,” Soren said. “I’ll get the keys… somehow.”

“Here.” Colin smirked, and handed over a key. “I felt it would be soon, and the crews’ cabins are kept so untidy that it won’t be missed for awhile.”

“They’ll notice that Hotchkiss and van der Hune are gone,” Soren said, tucking the key into his pocket discreetly. “And us.”

“I wish Nancy would come, too,” Colin said. “There’d be enough room.”

“They want her most of all. As long as she stays here, they’re less likely to come after us.”

“But without us she won’t be protected.” Colin’s grip on the railing tightened until his knuckles were white.

“It won’t be for long,” Soren reassured him. “The coast guard will be onto the ship in no time. If the hostages aren’t missed until morning, that gives the guard plenty of time to get here.”

Colin half-smiled, but he didn’t seem satisfied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, well. Who would be?
> 
> Plans are falling into place, but will things really be that simple? Alec doesn’t seem to think so, and as the author I’m inclined to agree with him. Partly because this is a Nancy Drew mystery with a promise of finding hidden treasure, so treasure must be found.
> 
> Please review! I now have two reviewers, which is lovely, but I’d like more, if anyone else is reading this.


	21. The Adventure of Beatrice Hotchkiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to get a certain professor off the boat. But will Nancy and Henrik soon be rescued, or will there be more trouble?

Nancy looked up, her heart in her throat, as someone clattered down the stairs. She ran to the door, and clutched the bars when she saw Soren. He shushed her before she could speak, and ran to Hotchkiss’s door. In seconds, he’d unlocked it with an echoingly loud click.

“Come on, professor, we’re getting you out of here,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Soren and Colin are rowing you to the shore, along with Henrik,” Nancy explained.

“We’re what?” Henrik said, approaching his door. “Nancy?”

“I don’t want to be worrying about you two,” she said. “If I stay behind they won’t come after you.”

“But you’ll be unprotected,” he said, frowning. Soren unlocked his door as well. “No, I’m not leaving you.”

“Henrik—”

“Nancy, I _won’t_ leave you.”

“The guard will come to the ship by morning, and I’ll be rescued,” she said. “Please go, Henrik. I need you and Hotchkiss to be safe.”

“Why, because then you can be as reckless as you like without a thought to how other people might be _worrying_ about you?” he asked angrily. “I’ll raise the alarm if I have to, but I’m not leaving you behind. Either you come with us, or I stay.”

“We have to go _now_ ,” Soren said. “Colin’s given half the crew food poisoning, and I’m not even going to ask how. He’s slightly terrifying when he’s working with a plan. Look, we’ll get to the shore faster with only one passenger, but you have to decide now.”

“Henrik,” Nancy said, her fingers flexing. “Please?”

He stayed stubbornly in place.

“I’ll only leave this room if I’m joining you in yours,” he said. “I don’t trust them not to take this loss out on you.”

“Here.” Hotchkiss dropped something into Henrik’s hand, and then Nancy’s: three screws. “I’ve given three to Derek, and I’ll keep two for myself. I took them from my bed while I was pretending to sleep.”

“What did you use for torque? Did you have a screwdriver?”

“Used my nails, dear.” Hotchkiss showed off her ragged fingernails. “They’re useful for anything, Mandy. Good luck. I’m afraid it’s all I can do—”

“It’s more than enough,” Nancy said, tears forming. “I could hug you!”

Soren unlocked the door with a sigh, and Nancy threw her arms around Hotchkiss for a quick hug. Then she pushed the woman towards the stairs.

“Go, and be as quiet as possible,” she said. Henrik strode across the room to Nancy’s cell and joined her there.

“It’s harder for them to fight both of us,” he said.

“Thank you, Soren,” Nancy said, and she patted him on the shoulder. He locked all the doors, and waved to them before leading Hotchkiss upstairs.

“Well… what now?” Henrik asked.

“I’m sorry this is so haphazard,” she said. “It was the best idea I could come up with. But if no one checks down here until morning, we should be fine. I’ve never been woken during the night with an inspection—”

“Nor I.”

“So, depending on the time it is now, it could be only a few hours until Katie sends the coast guard to find us.”

“I hope you’re right, Nancy,” he said. “I must say, it’s been… interesting working with you again. But I wish it had been under better circumstances.”

They sat side-by-side on the bed, and Nancy tucked herself under Henrik’s arm.

“After we get out of here, we should still look for the treasure,” she said. “Make sure it’s repatriated to a Mexican museum. Then we can write a book about it.”

“And maybe go on more treasure hunts?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. Nancy chuckled softly.

“Not too soon,” she said. “I think I’ll have to give mysteries for a break for awhile.”

“Do you really mean that?”

She shrugged.

“I don’t think I’ll really have any choice about spending time with my family,” she said. “I miss them more than I ever do when I’m on a case.”

“Because you’ve usually had a choice about going,” he pointed out.

“Yes, but… I think it’s because I’ve always had contact with them before, if I needed it,” she said. “This time… I mean, I like you, Henrik. And I like Hotchkiss. But I’ve only met you a couple of times, and the same with Colin and Soren.”

“You don’t have to spare my feelings, Nancy.”

“But we were all thrown together. Like you said, I always had an option before. It was my choice to solve those cases. This time I haven’t had a choice, and it’s… it’s been so scary, and I just wanna see my dad again. And Hannah, and Bess and George, and…” She brushed her tears away. “And I wish I’d just gone to Salem. But then you and Hotchkiss would be in trouble…”

“Nancy.” He tugged her closer. “We have no way of knowing how things might have turned out. Don’t torture yourself with the ‘what if’s. Just get some sleep, and I’m sure that when we wake up, it’ll be to the coast guard knocking on our door.”

Nancy was tired enough to nod against his chest, and drop off to sleep.

 

Beatrice kept a look out for trouble while Soren and Colin began to lower one of the lifeboats. Then they encouraged her to climb in, and she held onto the side for dear life, the oars tucked between her feet, while they lowered the boat the rest of the way until it was gently tapping against the side of the ship. They slid down the ropes, and Colin used a knife to cut the ties. He and Soren sat either side of Beatrice, each with an oar, and began to row.

“What do I do?” she asked.

“We’ll be able to see the lights on the nearby islands,” Soren said. “As soon as we’re close enough, and far away from the ship, we’ll need you to hold a lamp so we can see the way, and also signal to Katie Firestone. Someone will be watching out for us from the lighthouse.”

“The last thing we want to do is spoil our escape by dashing the lifeboat against rocks,” Colin said. “I _wish_ Nancy had come along. If they’ll really be safe until morning, we could have all escaped together.”

“We don’t know how armed they are,” Soren replied. “Professor Hotchkiss here has two screws, and that’s it.”

“I had eight,” Beatrice reminded him.

“The point is, even eight screws aren’t going to protect five people.”

“If only I’d contacted Zoe,” Colin said. “They won’t approve of me going off-radar, even though I was half-convinced that they’d sent me. But… well, I’d forgotten to charge the battery on my phone, and it needs a rather specific charger which I didn’t bring with me. I’d need a converter to plug it into the power here.”

“Nobody’s perfect,” Soren said. “And we were probably being monitored.”

“Yes, but I still feel _useless_ ,” he replied. “This… rescue effort feels like the most I’ve been able to do for anyone in a long time.”

“It’s better than doing nothing.”

Beatrice mostly fiddled with the two screws which had become security blankets to her. To part with six of them had been hard, but she knew that her fellow captives would need them. As security blankets _or_ as weapons.

They had left the ship far behind, and the lights on the land were much closer, when Colin told her where he’d hidden the lamp. She fished it out from beneath her seat, and shone it over the ocean. A distant lighthouse winked regularly, and the men were heading for that. Beatrice tried to hold the light steady, and nearly dropped it in excitement when she spotted a boat.

“Look there!” she said, gesturing wildly with the torch.

“Let’s keep going,” Colin said. “I believe she’s on a motorboat, so she’ll be faster than us. She’ll catch up soon.”

“If it’s her,” Soren said.

“Now who’s being a pessimist?”

They continued to row, to keep down the noise level, until they pulled up alongside the new boat.

“Hi!” a woman called softly. She knelt down, holding a rope, her short hair coppery in the lights on her boat. “I’m Katie Firestone. Nancy sent you, didn’t she?”

“Yes,” Colin said. “I’m Colin, this is Soren, and this is Professor Hotchkiss, one of the hostages. Henrik insisted on staying behind with Nancy.”

Katie threw the rope to them, and they attached it to the lifeboat. The men helped boost Beatrice onto the motorboat, and then followed her on. Katie led them down into a small area below deck, and Beatrice was thankful to curl up on a much more comfortable bed than the cot she’d been using for nearly three weeks.

“Make sure there’s toothpaste,” she mumbled.

“Sleep first,” Katie said. “I’m gonna radio in the ship’s last known location. When we get to shore, I’ll take you to the Hot Kettle Café. My… friend Jenna, she runs the place. She’ll have spare toothbrushes and toothpaste, and you can have clam chowder, or whatever you want.”

Beatrice nodded tiredly, and drifted to sleep.

 

They finally docked at Snake Horse Harbour, and Beatrice was shaken awake. Katie led her upstairs, and she was greeted by a grey light on the horizon. Dawn was approaching.

“Okay, Holt Scotto’s gonna lead the coast guard out,” Katie said. “He knows these waters better than anyone. If your cargo ship is only cruising at night, they’ll catch up pretty quickly. So, with any luck, Nancy will be off that ship and on her way home in no time.”

“Thank you, Kitty,” Beatrice said. “Now lead me to the land of dental hygiene. I’m _long_ overdue for a visit.”

“I think I’m going to wait here,” Colin said. “Until we get word.”

“They know to contact the Hot Kettle, which is where we’re going,” Katie said. “We don’t want you two out here as sitting targets.”

“But we should be safe now,” Soren said.

“I’m sure the professor would like familiar faces around,” she said.

“Oh, I don’t care one way or the other, so long as I get some good food in due course,” Beatrice said. “Let them stay, if they want to.”

“Alright,” Katie said. “But I’ve got the keys. Don’t you go haring off out there.”

“I’ve had enough of sea travel to last a lifetime,” Colin said.

“We’re not going to go chasing trouble when the professionals can do that,” Soren added. “You can trust us.”

“A couple of ex-cons?” Katie said. “Yeah, sure, why not.”

She rolled her eyes, and led Beatrice over to a tandem bicycle. She handed the woman a helmet, and strapped on her own. Then they rode off, leaving Soren and Colin behind, sitting on the edge of the pier with their feet dangling over the water, waiting for word of Nancy and Henrik’s rescue.

 

The clatter of footsteps coming downstairs once more woke them up.

“It could be nothing—”

“ _Nothing_? Listen, I know bad signs, and this is a bad. Sign.”

“Sounds like Dwayne isn’t happy,” Nancy mumbled.

“If we stay very still, perhaps they won’t check on us,” Henrik said.

“No chance of…” A flashlight was shone into her room, and she groaned. “That.”

“ _How_ did you get in here?” Dwayne asked. Nancy glanced at him when the light finally dipped, and saw Thanos behind Dwayne, looking equally furious.

“Magic,” Henrik replied.

“Check the other cells,” Dwayne told Thanos. The bearded man strode over to the other rooms, and reported that there was no one in them. No Hotchkiss at all. “Then where _is_ she?”

“Maybe she vanished,” Nancy said. “Maybe this is all a dream. Just let me go back to sleep, okay, Dwayne?”

“ _Sleep_?” He was sounding more and more hysterical. “Thanos, _check the crew_. Find out who’s missing. I’ll check the lifeboats, and see if any of them have gone. We have to find out when this happened. Why aren’t there any security cameras on this ship? It’s huge! There should be cameras!”

Both men raced back up the stairs.

“How long has it been?” Nancy whispered to Henrik.

“I’ve no idea. I fell asleep quite some time ago. We can only hope that it’s been a few hours.”

“But they found us before the coast guard.” She clutched his shirt. “What if they get _really_ mad? What if they separate us? What if—”

“We’ll be _fine_ , as long as we’re together. Aren’t you glad I didn’t leave you alone?”

“I… I don’t know. I really wish we were all safe, but I didn’t want to take any chances. And I’d hate to be lonely again. But that’s selfish of me.”

“Not at all. You have a right to your feelings, the same as anyone,” he said. “And I’d have hated to leave you in their hands. I would have made the same choice that you did, Nancy, and I’d make the same choice that _I_ made again, no matter how things turn out.”

“Thanks. At least Hotchkiss left us each a few presents.”

He chuckled.

“That she did, and I’ll never complain about the power of a snore again, if that’s what she’s been doing the whole time.”

“I might even start getting manicures.”

“I have to, because of my work, but I see the value in getting an actual coat or two of polish. Inappropriate for handling delicate documents, but those are few and far between. They were very rarely used to record glyphs.”

They continued to joke about manicures and pedicures – anything which led to mindless chatter – until Dwayne returned with a manic look.

“There’s gonna be a change of plans, thanks to whatever little _stunt_ you pulled,” he said, pointing at them. “We’re abandoning ship, and taking a private jet from Oregon to San Diego. Get ready; you’re gonna be moved soon.”

Without any clue as to how long it would be until the coast guard was summoned and arrived at the ship, Nancy and Henrik were handcuffed and seated at opposite ends of a lifeboat, both at gun point, and Thanos rowing. Neither Henrik nor Nancy wanted to risk the other being shot by trying to distract or attack, so they were forced to sit still and remain silent.

“Will there be enough boats for all of the crew?” Nancy finally asked.

“No,” Thanos said. “But that is life.”

Dwayne waved from another boat, and Nancy felt a bit sick when she recognised Taylor Sinclair, Andy Jason, and Shorty Thurmond sitting with him. They all grinned, and she looked away.

_Dad, please find me soon_ , she thought desperately, and she met Henrik’s eyes past Thanos’s shoulders. _Both of us._

“Cut the lights!” Dwayne whispered loudly. “That might be the guard coming!”

All the lamps went dark, and now the rowers relied on sound to avoid colliding. Still Nancy and Henrik were forced to wait quietly, hoping that everyone would either be caught now, or arrested when they reached land.

 

Colin and Soren were both flagging by the time Holt Scotto’s boat arrived back at the harbour. They scrambled to their feet, expecting to see Nancy and Henrik emerging.

No such luck.

“The guard’s arresting everyone on board, but it seems three lifeboats have gone, as well as the people who were supposed to be in the cargo hold,” he said. “I’m sorry. We’ve alerted all the docks along the coast; they have to pull up somewhere. They sure can’t row forever.”

“So it was all for _nothing_ ,” Colin said in disbelief.

“Not nothing,” Holt said. “There was no sign of a struggle, no blood or anything, and they’ve come this far. If we don’t get `em at the docks, we’ll find `em elsewhere. Your part’s done. Go have a rest. I’ll find somewhere to put you up in town. You’ve earned a sleep.”

“Not if we’ve failed her,” Soren said, twisting his hands together. “We’ll tell you everything we know. And get the computer, and everything else that’s in the research room. All the papers on the walls—”

“Weren’t any papers on the walls,” Holt said. “But they’ll be checking the computer, I can guarantee you that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly thought I’d be writing a longer escape scene, hence the title of the chapter. Oh wells.
> 
> Writing this while on holiday. Kind of. Attending a wedding today, and we’ve had to drive down into another state for it. Fun. I ended up seeing a book on the Salem Witch Trials at a bookstore, so I bought it. Typical. I can’t escape fan fiction even while on holiday.
> 
> Please review!


	22. Elsewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy's family and friends get the news that Hotchkiss is safe, and Nancy and Henrik are probably on land.
> 
> Alec and Zoe are looking for the trail. Fenton and Tino leave River Heights for California. And way too many people are congregating in Colorado.

“I see,” Carson said tiredly. “Thank you, Miss Firestone.”

He hung up, and sank onto the sofa beside Alexei.

“Anything?” he asked.

“Hotchkiss got back to shore safely, van der Hune chose to stay on board with Nancy, but by the time the coast guard got there a third of the crew had escaped, taking the hostages with them. They must’ve docked on the shore, rather than at a harbour, because no one’s seen them since Colin, Soren, and Hotchkiss left the cargo ship. At least the rest of the crew has been arrested, and the computer Nancy used was taken into custody. They’ll let us know what they find.”

“I’ll post that on the messenger app,” Alexei said.

“Prudence Rutherford has the same publisher as me,” Charleena said. “She heard that I was here, and got my email address from them. Apparently two spies, Alec and Zoe, are scouring the shoreline for any clues, and they’ll continue their search on land. Zoe’s been able to find recordings of most of the conversations over the radio since the beginning, which can be used against the culprits in court. Thank God for ancient Krolmeister technology. You know, that email account they gave me was deleted after I sent the first lot of information I could find.”

“I traced the IP address to California,” Logan said. “Or at least my contacts did. Zoe and Alec, they were the ones in Scotland, right?”

“Yes,” Alexei said. “Who does Nancy know in California?”

“I’ll check the database of her cases,” Carson said. He heaved himself off the sofa and wandered over to his computer. The dark circles under his eyes were emphasised by the bright light from the monitor.

“But that email was awhile ago,” Fenton pointed out. “They could be anywhere by now, whoever received the email. It was probably forwarded onto another account.”

“It wasn’t,” Logan said. “My contacts would’ve followed any other activity, but there was nothing after the email was received. The information was probably printed out, and maybe faxed somewhere, but the address was deleted after that.”

“Nancy’s probably _in_ California right now,” Carson said. “Maybe I should go there.”

“It’s a big state, Carson,” Alexei said.

“I can go there,” Tino said. “If the person – or people – who received the email in California are the same ones who were involved in the museum break-in, that’ll include Lori Girard. If they’ve been doing all the land work, they might even meet up with the people who escaped from the ship.”

“Unless they’re still in Guatemala,” Logan said.

“I’ll go with Tino,” Fenton said. “We’ll get a plane from the airport and fly straight across the country. We don’t know how fast they’ll be travelling, or whether they’re armed and dangerous. Nancy would hate for anything to happen to you, Carson. Leave this to the professionals. We’ll leave updates on the app, and call the _second_ anything significant happens. You’ve got work, remember? Court in the morning?”

“That’s right,” Carson said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I forgot that. Uh, I’ve found the California connections. Emily Foxworth is a friend of Nancy’s… I’m not sure how. She might’ve lived in River Heights once, I don’t know. She gave Nancy some help in that San Francisco place. Then there’s Rose Green, Abby Sideris, and Charlie Murphy, who all worked at the bed and breakfast. Rose and Abby are probably still there. Not sure about Charlie. The man who was trying to steal the treasure is Louis Chandler, not in jail, but not suspected to be involved with Nancy’s abduction. He certainly wasn’t mentioned by Soren or Colin.”

“I’ll call the B and B,” Hannah said. “Rose is my friend. If Nancy somehow gets in contact, she’ll be on the alert for it, and she can tell anyone else working there.”

“Then I’ll call Emily,” Carson said. “If I recognise her voice, I might be able to work out how Nancy knows her.”

“With all those treasure-hunting nutcases Nancy’s put away, I’m glad Jeff Akers was able to assure us that Emily Griffin was still under lock and key,” Alexei said.

“Hey, not _all_ treasure-hunters are nutcases,” Dagny said, bringing in a plate of sandwiches from the kitchen. “Okay, so this is the extent of my culinary ability. No wonder my wife left me.”

“Oh, but we _love_ the sandwiches you’ve been making,” Hannah said. “And it’s so kind of you to do this.”

“There’s not much else I can do,” she said with a shrug. “I’ve exhausted all my contacts, so I need something…” She trailed off when her cell phone rang. “Sorry. I’d better take this.”

She retreated to a corner of the living room, and answered.

“You _what_?”

They all looked up.

“Wait, let me hear her voice. I want to…” She turned pale. “You want me to what? Tell… the police here, or…? Okay. Um, listen… oh, okay. No, it’s just that I figured…” Her expression hardened. “Look, you’re working on a pretty sketchy plan, from what we’ve figured out. I’m gonna give you a chance to return both of them, _intact_ and _alive_ , for a very hefty payout. I’ve earned _millions_ treasure-hunting, but I always used solid, recent leads. Not… no, listen. Five million dollars for the both of them. Alive and unhurt. No? Ten million. I can get PG Krolmeister to chip in as well. This is the best offer you’re gonna get. How much could a treasure be… no, no, come on, just give up! I’ll wire you half the payment, you drop Nancy and Henrik off at a safe place, and when they call from a police station I’ll wire you the rest. Fifteen million? Twenty! Please? Hello?” She repeated herself several times, and then sighed, and pressed the red button. “They hung up. But Nancy’s alive. I heard her voice. And my phone automatically records phone calls – a handy little thing I had installed after Iceland – so we can get someone to run it through an audio filter and hear the background noise.”

“Thanks for trying,” Carson said, and he rubbed his face. “Do we _have_ audio filtering software?”

“I’ve got something on my laptop,” Tino said. “Can you send me a copy of the file or post it in the group?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Dagny said.

“I’ll book two tickets to California,” Fenton said. “Might start in San Francisco, and then go East, North, or South, depending on the information we get.”

“I’ll call Rose,” Hannah said.

“And I’ll get in touch with Emily,” Carson said.

 

“Huh.”

“What is it, Wade?”

“There’s an update,” he said, holding up his phone. “Kind of a long one. Oh, someone’s adding to it right now.”

“What’s it say?” Savannah asked.

“BH – for Hotchkiss, I’m guessin’ – is safe in Washington. The ship was found, third of the crew gone, including ND and HvdH – Nancy and Henrik. They’re presumably on land, but no one’s seen `em yet.”

“Oh, poor Carson,” Savannah murmured.

“Uh… next post says the criminals called DS – Dagny? SB… why are we using initials? _Soren_ called only that number, and since all outgoing and incoming calls were tracked, they decided to call, and warned Dagny that Nancy and Henrik would be shot…” He scrolled down the screen. “If anyone tried to stop the treasure hunt from goin’ ahead.” Savannah gasped, and covered her mouth. “They’ll know if anyone gets too close, `specially the police. Here’s another update. Fenton’s got tickets for him and Tino to go to California, since that’s probably where they got to land. Zoe and Alec are looking for the point where they would’ve come ashore. And that’s it so far.” He shoved his phone back in his pocket. “Should we continue to Colorado?”

“Yes,” she said. “They’re expectin’ us, and now they don’t have to worry about whether the drone functions over water. It’s only gotta be able to go over land now. I’ll ring Rentaro and let him know.”

“I’ll drive again, so you can do that.”

“If you’re sure—”

“You can do the drivin’ tomorrow. Deal?”

“Deal,” she agreed.

 

Alec was looking through the binoculars while Zoe steered the motorboat.

“I think those might be drag marks from a boat,” he said, pointing to a nearby stretch of beach. “Three of them. No sign of the boats, though.”

“We’ll get as close as we can without disturbing the scene,” Zoe replied. “The tide’s probably washed away any footprints in the wet sand, and we couldn’t get anything from the dry sand. But we might be able to find something in the vicinity.”

They found the nearest dock, and tied up there. Then they walked along the beach, barefoot, keeping their eyes peeled for anything out of place. Both dreaded seeing a body, especially one with red hair. But there was nothing amiss until they followed the boat drag marks up the sand to the nearest concrete pathway.

“Definitely shoe marks,” Alec said.

“They’ve all had to stamp sand out of their shoes, even shake it off,” Zoe said, pointing to the sprays of wet sand which had since dried in the sun. “Good thing this is a rarely-used beach.”

“And to think that I thought there was no such thing in California,” Alec said, shading his eyes from glare. “My poor Scottish eyes can’t handle this for much longer. Maybe you should take over.”

“I won’t be a minute,” she said, pulling out… one of the many electronic devices she had which she refused to explain to Alec. Probably from one of the agencies she worked for, unlikely to be Cathedral. It let out a beep a minute later. “Found something metal!”

“What is it?” Alec asked, walking around the shoe prints on the path. He’d already photographed them and called the police to do a search of the area.

“It looks like a screw,” Zoe said, holding it up to the light. He didn’t know how she could do that without ruining her vision. “I wonder what it’s doing here?”

“Could it be from a boat?”

“I don’t know.” She frowned. “I’m keeping it anyway. It’s just litter here.”

“Suit yourself,” he said. “Do you want me to wait for the police?”

“Yeah. I’ll return the boat and drive back for you. Keep looking around, just in case there’s anything else.”

“You know, if that screw is evidence—”

“It’ll be safe with me,” she said. “Someone else could’ve disposed of it. Please, Alec, I’m used to this game.”

“Oh, and I suppose I’m not,” he said.

“No, you’re not. You’re still a relative newbie to spy business. Stay here and try not to screw up when you talk to the police.”

He laughed as she stalked back along the beach, her confident stride hampered by her feet sinking into the sand.

 

Nancy was exhausted. Mentally, physically, and emotionally. She and Henrik were being kept apart, although always in sight of one another. Like she needed any more incentive to behave herself. His safety was constantly at the front of her mind, now that Hotchkiss was on land (she hoped). Shorty Thurmond’s grinning, unsettling presence was always too close, and Taylor Sinclair’s smug, oily expression was rendered only slightly less effective by his untidy hair. Andy Jason was at least quiet, although he got this murderous look in his eyes whenever he saw her.

Henrik refused to acknowledge anyone other than Nancy, which she could tell was grating on Sinclair. His ego wouldn’t allow him to be ignored by someone who knew him. Not that Henrik had ever spoken highly of Sinclair in the first place, but she presumed that he’d made some effort to appear genial, for the museum’s sake if nothing else. If it got him more artefacts to study, more glyphs to translate…

But he also understood the importance of historical artefacts being repatriated to their country of origin, which none of these other men did.

Not just men, either. Dwayne had forced Nancy to show her face in a phone call to the people who’d been doing research, and were going to meet them at the Torrey Pines State Natural Reserve. They’d stopped for lunch on the way, Dwayne in another disguise to go in and order, with one of the generic thugs. Nancy had been surprised that Dwayne even knew Lori Girard, Corine Myers, and the Phantom of Venice himself, Nico Petit.

“Hi!” Lori had said brightly, giving a little wave. Corine smirked. Nico just looked away, clearly bored.

“Hello… again,” Nancy had replied, before Dwayne pushed her away to continue talking to them.

There’d been a moment where she’d had to call out to let Dagny know she was still alive. It made sense that Soren had been talking to her, and Nancy guessed she would’ve called Moira to get her to speak to Nancy’s father, since Dagny had never met Nancy’s family or friends. She’d really only managed to say ‘Wait, you’re talking to Dagny?’ before Thanos clapped a hand over her mouth again, and dragged her back down to the floor of the van.

As soon as they’d arrived in Oregon – going through a place called Salem, of all things – they got to a small field where a private jet was waiting. She and Henrik were still handcuffed, and were shoved into the back of the plane together. Cargo hold again. Was there any more stylish way to travel? Not for Nancy Drew, there wasn’t!

Nancy had been allowed out with a wig and sunglasses, one of the guards by her side while she took in some fresh air. She was aware of the gun digging into her back, and felt around for one of the screws. She’d dumped one at the beach, in hopes that someone would pick up the trail of bread crumbs. She’d barely had time to inform Henrik of her plan before they were being hauled off the ship and into a lifeboat.

She noticed that one of the tourists was chatting on her phone, facing away from a pad of sticky notes. There was even a pen beside them. It couldn’t be better.

Nancy jabbed the screw into the flesh of her guard’s arm, and he grunted.

“Was that a bee?” Nancy said, pretending to look around. There were plenty of insects, so it wasn’t far-fetched.

The man turned away long enough to stem the bleeding, and Nancy quickly removed a sticky note and the pen. She wrote hurriedly, and then replaced the note and pen.

“Not enough pain for bee,” the guard said, leaving a streak of blood. Nancy hadn’t meant to stab quite that hard, but she _was_ annoyed about being kidnapped.

“Maybe a mosquito,” she said. “They’re harder to see.”

He didn’t speak to her again, and instead marched her back to the van before the tourists noticed their strange behaviour. Dwayne was coming out with the lunch by then, so Nancy didn’t have time to see if the woman with the sticky note had seen it yet, or how she’d react.

But thirty seconds after the van pulled away, the female tourist was inside, shouting for someone to call the police and find the security footage.

 

Hannah answered the phone when it rang, and gasped loudly, halting all conversation.

“Send us a photograph as _soon_ as you can,” she said. “You know my email address, Rose. And _hurry_.”

“What is it?” Carson said while she replaced the receiver on the cradle.

“A tourist in San Diego was left a note for Rose Green,” she said. “It was from Nancy. She addressed it to Rose at the Golden Gardenia, and it said to send help on de Niza’s trail East. The tourist reported it to the police, and they’re tracking the van from the security footage.”

“Someone has to leave a message for Fenton and Tino at the airport,” Alexei said.

“Yes, do that,” Carson said.

“I’ll check my emails,” Hannah added. “It want to make sure that the note matches Nancy’s handwriting.”

“But the police can’t follow it up,” Bess reminded them. “Or the bad guys will shoot Nancy.”

“And Henrik,” George said. “I feel kinda bad for the guy. Everyone’s concentrating so much on Nancy that we keep forgetting about the other captives.”

“Their colleagues and friends haven’t,” Charleena said, and George blushed with embarrassment. “But I’m here for both Beatrice and Nancy. And now that Beatrice is safe, I should fly to Washington. She may need support. I’ve researched the effects of captivity for a book before, and they’re not pleasant.”

“Oh… I’ll book tickets for us, then,” Logan said, glancing at Bess. She’d only just started to thaw towards him. Charleena rolled her eyes.

“We’re both on vacation at the moment,” she said. “Stay in River Heights for a little longer. They may need your research skills and contacts.”

“Yeah,” Bess said hesitantly. “Stay.”

Logan brightened.

 

Sonny carved ‘Sonny wuz here’ again. He wasn’t sure why he was in Colorado, climbing around the Rocky Mountains, but something told him to come here. The same thing that compelled him to draw ships and deserts. It wasn’t the feeling that came with a sign from his Annunaki ancestors. This was less Jin and more… him.

“Please be safe, wherever you are, Nancy,” he whispered. Then he began to climb back down the mountain.

He’d seen if the Four Corners Monument had any connection to the Annunaki. Then he could say that it was a business trip, and not personal.

He didn’t think he could take Jamila’s smirks if she thought he was only here for Nancy Drew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mentions of suicidal thoughts in author note.
> 
> I’ve had a bloody awful time. Friday was okay, yesterday morning was okay. But I should’ve stayed home last night, instead of going to the reception. I said as much to Mum, and I should’ve acted on my instincts. Should’ve gone swimming instead, washed my hair again, then watched series five of ‘Cheese Slices’. But apparently the meaning of life is constant suffering? Wish I’d gotten that memo sooner. I would’ve put an end to it all by now if I knew this was all I had to ‘look forward to’. I didn’t have the energy – emotional or physical – to go up to the lighthouse and Giant Causeway like I wanted to. The sole reason I asked to come a day early, so we’d have time for that. And we didn’t.
> 
> Oh well. Life sucks and then you die.
> 
> Please review! I promise not to kill myself before finishing this fic. I’ve gone to enough trouble over it, that’s for damn sure. Probably done more research for this than I have for any other fan fic before.


	23. Back in Salem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case is drawing to a close... in Massachusetts. Jenna Ravencraft and Lauren Corey both give their stories about what happened the night of the fire, and Frank is pretty sure he knows who's responsible.

“Why won’t you tell anyone what you know?” Frank asked Jenna Ravencraft. She turned her head away and wouldn’t look at either of the brothers. “You’ve been busted for drugging your customers with hallucinogens, which isn’t a light sentence, not with the number of people who’ve been on your tours. Do you know how many people could testify against you? But you can get a reduced sentence, and the case might not even go to trial, if you can share any information about an ongoing investigation. Like the arson attack. Was that one of your devices? Were you the ghostly woman Jason Danforth witnessed at the fire?”

She sighed, and mumbled something.

“We didn’t catch that,” Joe said.

“Yes,” she finally said. “If it stops the Shannon girl from continuing to visit me, I’ll admit it. I was testing a new lighting system. John Grey has his name all over the tours here. How else am I supposed to draw people in if I don’t do something different, that stands out? It – the device – was supposed to produce holograms. But the wiring must’ve been faulty, because it caught fire as soon as I started it up.”

“So you were the woman he saw?” Frank said.

“No!” she said quickly. “There must have already been some sort of accelerant – I think that’s the word the police used? – in the house, because I put out the fire on my equipment quickly, and then threw it away. But the house caught so quickly that… I just don’t know, but for a little spark it caused a huge blaze. And I was at the back, where the fire started. I didn’t see anyone at the back windows.”

“Well, you wouldn’t have,” Joe said. “Jason was trapped in the library, a _front_ -facing room.”

“I ran through the back of the property,” she said. “And I definitely never heard someone call for help. As soon as I realised the fire spread that fast, I got out of there. I knew people nearby would’ve already been dialling the fire service, and maybe the police. I didn’t want to get caught!”

“Did you see anyone else around that night?” Frank said. “Anyone at all?”

“I heard someone nearby, and I saw a shadow in the cemetery,” Jenna said. “But that was it, I swear. If anyone else was around, they must’ve been subtle to escape my notice on the way to Hathorne House. Afterwards, I wasn’t in the right state to notice anyone, and I took a different route back.”

“Which cemetery was this?” Joe asked.

“The one adjoining Witch House.”

The boys looked at each other. That was the same cemetery which led to the crypt Deirdre had explored.

“Thanks for finally talking,” Frank said. “And if you remember anything else, let the police know.”

After they left the station, Joe turned to him.

“So we’re taking it at face value, that she wasn’t the woman Jason Danforth saw?” he said. “We’re taking her word for it?”

“She confessed to arson, Joe. That’s a big deal.”

“It could be a lie.”

“But it could also be the truth. I think we need to investigate that cemetery again. Any evidence has probably gone by now, but there might be something significant that Deirdre missed. Has she even been back since that night?”

“No idea,” Joe said. “We should also check the back of Hathorne House, and see if the fire really did originate from there. The firemen weren’t sure.”

“It’d be great if she hadn’t thrown away the holographic light,” Frank said. “Where would anyone get one of those around here?”

“Frank? There’s this thing called online shopping. I don’t know whether you’ve heard of it?”

“Very funny,” he said dryly. He wrapped his arms around himself. “I hate the thought that we’ve effectively stolen a case from Nancy.”

“Correction: we’re assisting Deirdre Shannon on a case.” Joe grimaced. “Actually, I like your version better. It feels less… weird.”

“Still unethical, but without the association of someone who hates Nancy so much.”

“I’m gonna check in with Ned,” Joe said. “I feel bad that we haven’t talked to him enough since we got here. I know he’s got assignments and exams, but we’re supposed to make sure he’s okay. I think he’s been faking his calmness. Nancy’s his friend and ex-girlfriend. I don’t care how confident he is in her abilities, she’s been gone _way_ too long. You’ve never been her boyfriend, and do you know hard it is to keep you from freaking out? And I’ve heard you talking to her in your sleep. Saying ‘We’ll find you’ and ‘You’ll be fine’ and… yeah, I’m not saying the rest, because it’d sound weird coming from your brother.”

“Thanks for that,” Frank muttered.

 

While Frank drove them to the cemetery, Joe went over the list of references he’d found in Hawthorne’s stories. He’d created a simple database where he included the key words from each passage he deemed significant to the kind of things they’d run across in their… okay, that _Deirdre_ had run across in her investigation. He looked for references to cemeteries and crypts. He also looked up tombs, and found one of the more popular Hawthorne quotes, from ‘The Haunted Mind’. After reading it through again, he wondered how he’d missed this before.

“Frank.”

“Yeah, Joe?”

“‘In the depth of every heart, there is a tomb and a dungeon, though the lights, the music, and revelry above may cause us to forget their existence, and the buried ones, or prisoners whom they hide.’”

“Very poetic,” Frank said, turning at the lights.

“Tomb and dungeon, Frank. Music, like the clanging through the pipe? The buried ones? It has to be referencing the crypt! What if Deirdre was somehow supposed to find this quote, and use it to find the key?”

“Does it continue?” Frank asked, his hands tightening around the wheel.

“‘But sometimes, at midnight, those dark receptacles are flung wide open.’ She was there at midnight.”

“Dark receptacles,” he said. “Okay, we’ll check there. At midnight.”

 

Before boarding the plane in River Heights, Fenton had forwarded the boys an email with information about the descendents of the Hadlock family, as well as their most recent contact information. Since they were all descended through female lines, none of them had the surname Hadlock; but they came from the families who originally lived in Salem. Joe and Frank spent hours calling around, finding out whether anyone knew of an artefact passed down through the family, given to John Hadlock by Ruth Hathorne. It wasn’t until they reached the last name that they struck gold.

“This is Ingrid Corey,” she said. “Are you from the design committee?”

“Uh, no?” Joe said. “I got your name from a friend of a friend. You’re descended from the Hadlock family of Salem, Massachusetts, aren’t you?”

“Yes, through my mother,” she replied. “Both me and my brother. He died two years ago. What is this regarding? I presume it has nothing to do with roller coasters.”

“Roller coasters? Oh, hey, you’re the engineer at that park, aren’t you? The one where stolen jewels were found in a carousel horse.”

“That’s correct,” she said. “Is that what this is about? Because I don’t see what that has to do with my ancestry.”

“It doesn’t, it’s just… a weird coincidence. Listen, we have reason to believe that in the eighteen hundreds, a woman named Ruth Hathorne – Nathaniel Hawthorne’s aunt – left something with a member of the Hadlock family. It could be anything. My brother and I are trying to track it down, because it could help with a case we’re working on at the moment.”

“Case… are you detectives?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know Nancy Drew.”

“Yeah,” he said. “We’re friends of hers. I’m Joe Hardy. Frank’s my brother. We’re working on a case she was supposed to take on, since we’ve done all we can to help find Nancy.”

Ingrid hummed.

“If she’s found, please tell her I said hello,” she said. “Are you in Salem?”

“We are.”

“You might have seen my niece Lauren around.”

“Yeah, she’s a… she’s a suspect.”

“A _suspect_?”

“And we know to find out who’s really responsible. So if it’s not Lauren, it’s in your best interests to help us out, right?”

“Your communication skills need a great deal of work,” she said. “But I’ll help you. I think I know which family heirloom you’re referring to. It’s a letter. No one in my family has ever opened it. I’ll check it tonight, and see if it’s relevant. If it is, I’ll scan it and email the image to you. Or images, if it’s more than one page.”

“Thanks,” Joe said, and he gave her his address. “I’ve seen some of your niece’s baking tutorials, and I have _no_ idea how she does it. I’ve tried to replicate some of her results. I guess I lack the artistic touch. Creativity must run in your family.”

“Have a peaceful day.”

He hung up, and beamed across the table at Frank.

“Okay, so we have to wait a few hours,” Joe said. “But I’m sure it’ll be worth it.”

“I hope you’re right, because I’m having too much trouble narrowing down the field of suspects if we’re going by descendents of people involved in the witch hunts,” Frank said. “I’ve got the list of names here, all twenty of them. And that’s just the people who were hanged – or in one case crushed to death – for witchcraft. It’s crazy. If they denied that they were witches, it was taken as proof that they _were_. Even a clergyman was hanged, despite being able to say the Lord’s Prayer. And if someone confessed to witchcraft, they were spared. But if they were witches, they should’ve been hanged. So they should’ve died for confessing anyway. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Glad we’re not puritans living in seventeenth century America?”

“Glad we’re not living _among_ puritans in seventeenth century America.”

 

The letter revealed two things. The first was one half of a code, the left half, which was on the back of the page. The second was that a necklace contained the right half of the code, a necklace they didn’t have.

“Ingrid said that there’s been some jewellery passed down through the family, but she wouldn’t have a clue which necklace the letter could be referring to,” Joe said, scrunching his hair in frustration. “We were so close!”

“Does she describe _any_ of the jewellery?” Frank asked. “Does the letter say that the necklace was left with the Hadlock family?”

“Yes to both,” Joe said. “But it’s a pretty long list. She’s made notes saying that a few of them are probably too modern in design, but she’s not discounting them, because old fashions make a recurrence all the time.”

“That’s true,” Frank said. “Anything leap out at you?”

“Give me a minute to look through them.”

Frank read through the latest messages posted to the group chat, and wondered how far away from Massachusetts Nancy might be at this very moment. The police were planning to track the van, but everyone was also aware of the threat to Nancy’s life if law enforcement got too close. And what was the significance of the screws? Moira had passed on a message from Zoe Wolfe saying that she’d found a screw at the beach where the boats had pulled in, and then another on the ground near the bench where Nancy had left the sticky note asking for help. The second one had a bloodied tip.

“Aha!”

Frank jumped in his seat.

“What?” he asked, annoyed with himself for getting lost in thought again.

“There’s a necklace with a purple plant on it,” Joe said, jabbing his finger towards the screen. “I’m gonna call Ingrid and ask where it is now.”

“You mean… the clue from ‘Dr. Rappaccini’s Daughter’?”

“Yeah!” Joe dialled the number, and bounced in his seat impatiently. “Hey, Ms. Corey? It’s Joe Hardy again. I’ve just been going through your email, and I think the necklace might be the one with the purple plant. Was it like a shrub? Uh-huh? Yeah, it could be the one. Do you have it? It’s with… oh, that’s _great_. Do you have her number?” He grabbed a pen and started writing. “Thanks _so_ much. You’ve been a huge help. We’ll be sure to visit Captain’s Cove sometime. Thanks!” He hung up, and grinned. “The necklace was passed down from father to daughter. Lauren Corey has it. We have to meet up with her.”

“I hope you’re right, Joe,” Frank said.

“Of course I’m right! Apparently it’s a pretty large necklace, so Lauren only wears it for special occasions. It usually hangs up in her kitchen somewhere. Come to think of it, I think I’ve seen it in a couple of videos. Let’s hurry! I’ll talk, you drive.”

 

Lauren was happy to meet them at the graveyard. When she arrived, wearing the necklace, she led them silently to a memorial.

“I present to you Colonel John Hathorne,” she said. “Judge in the Salem witch trials. Good thing the Hadlocks were pretty boring, or vindictive parents would’ve set their children against us.”

“There was a lot of hysteria at the time,” Frank said. “It’s possible their wheat had been poisoned, and since everyone would’ve been eating bread, even the poor…”

“That’s no excuse,” she said. Her hand scrunched into a fist. “One day I came up here, the day I moved back to Salem. My parents died here, and I went to live with my aunt for awhile. When I came back, I intended to spit on his grave. I felt like the sins of the past had cursed my family, like the Hadlocks were bullied into doing nothing to help the victims. I was wearing the necklace my father had left for me, because it always gave me strength. It’s so heavy, you know.” She patted the large pendant which was nearly the size of her palm. “I use it for decoration nowadays.”

“Yeah, we’ve seen it in your videos,” Joe said. Lauren nodded.

“My aunt called me to confirm that you’d need to see it,” she said. “I was relieved that you suggested this place, because… there’s something you need to see. I saw it that day, and it’s puzzled me ever since. The night of the fire, when Jason Danforth was trapped in that house, I’d come here at night to see whether the glow was any stronger, but it wasn’t.” She removed the necklace, and held it in front of the memorial plaque. The eyes in the carved skull lit up, and Joe and Frank exchanged bewildered looks. “You see? I’m not imagining it. And wait for it.” She pressed the flowery pendant against the skull, and the three matching carved flowers on the plaque swung open to reveal old dials. “I’ve never been able to figure this out.”

“Keep holding it there,” Frank said, and he and Joe stood either side. They turned the dials, and found each had a set of different numbers on them.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Frank?” Joe said.

“Set them to eleven-eighteen-thirty-five? Yep.”

Once the dials were set, they waited. Then Lauren gasped, and pulled the pendant away. The flowers snapped shut, but the jaw of the skull had opened, and a piece of paper pushed out.

“There’s _no_ way that kind of technology existed back then,” she said.

“It might’ve been modified by Ruth Hathorne later on,” Joe said. “And mechanical clocks were invented in the thirteen century, you know, so anything’s possible.”

“How do you even know these things, Joe?” Frank asked.

“I read stuff! I just prefer fiction. It’s something I read in a story once, and it surprised me so much that it stuck with me.”

Frank unrolled the paper, and grinned.

“This is actually the other half of the clue,” he said. “It wasn’t in the necklace at all. I guess the letter Ruth Hathorne left _was_ pretty vague about that. She didn’t want it falling into the wrong hands.”

“Well… great,” Lauren said. “Anything else you need from me?”

“Private lessons on how to make cake pops that really do look like basketballs?” Joe suggested. “Because I _still_ don’t see how you did that.”

“You said you were here on the night of the fire,” Frank said. “Jenna Ravencraft saw someone in the cemetery.”

“That would’ve been me,” Lauren said. “I didn’t see anyone else here. I don’t know _exactly_ what time it was, but it was dark enough that I had to use a flashlight to find my way around the graveyard. And it was spooky. Being so close to Halloween, it was a pretty dumb idea, but I knew I’d be getting busy with all the trick-or-treating coming up, and I was. In fact, I have to get back pretty soon. I have to make a Christmas video this afternoon, and get on with editing it so I can post tonight.”

“Did you see anyone else around while you were on your way here or back?”

She shrugged.

“Just an early trick-or-treater,” she said. “I saw someone applying really pale makeup, so pale it almost glowed. I could see the paint on their hands. But I wasn’t close enough to be able to see whether it was male or female.”

“What kind of costume?” Joe asked.

“Uh… I’m not sure. There were darker clothes there, but it didn’t look like any of the generic outfits you see around here at Halloween. There was some shimmery fabric that I’ve never seen before. Well, except at one of those clothing shops that pops up around here. You know, the small, independent business that doesn’t ever really take off, and you wonder why they even bother when there are so many other clothing shops. How do any of them make business?”

“I guess the same way restaurants make business,” Joe said. “By offering something different, and people are always looking out for something different.”

“Thanks for all your help,” Frank said. “Good luck with your video. Come on, Joe. I think this case is nearly closed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guessed whodunit yet? Of course, it’ll probably be someone else in the actual game (if it’s ever released), or a different motive or whatever. But this is the best speculation I can make about MID, going on what Her Interactive has told us plus the preview at the end of SEA. What have you thought of my version of Midnight in Salem thus far?
> 
> Please review! We’ll get back to Nancy soon; I just wanted to reach towards a resolution in Massachusetts to ensure that the focus returned to the main part of the story, without people wondering ‘But what’s happening in Salem?’


	24. On the Road Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events are beginning to culminate. Characters are travelling, testing, and occasionally talking. Where will everything finally converge, and who will survive?

Some might look at Fenton and Tino, knowing that they were detectives, and assume that they were on some buddy cop road trip. The stickers all over the rented car detracted from the image, not to mention the lack of donuts. Sure, Tino had bought pastries for them to tuck into while they were driving along, following the most logical route for the van to take going East. But they were savoury pastries, intended for meals, with some protein bars and energy drinks to give them an extra boost.

“I think I’ll start to flag in half an hour,” Fenton said. “So I’ll let you take over at the next resting stop.”

“Sure thing,” Tino said. “Do you think they’ve changed vehicles?”

“They did with the abduction, so it’s possible. We know a private plane was chartered by someone with a Greek name, going from Oregon to California. We know that the fast food restaurant where Nancy was last spotted is near the airport. We know that screws have been left behind at both the beach and the restaurant, possibly by Nancy and Henrik. The kidnapping was a professional operation, and clearly some dangerous people are involved. So it’s highly likely they’ll change from the van to… either another van, or a mini-bus or caravan, maybe even cars.”

“I’ve got some guys checking all the CCTV in the area to determine where they might’ve changed, and what they could be using now,” Tino said. “All the regional cops should know not to approach in case one of the hostages is shot, but there might be some wildcard cowboys trying to prove themselves to be heroes, instead of just doing their job of keeping people safe.”

“We’ve all known cops like that,” Fenton said.

They swapped places at the next stop, and Fenton munched on a savoury roll while Tino drove. They intended to stop in the next major town and catch up on what was happening, unless someone contacted them before then. Tino checked the gas, and noticed it was low, so they’d have to stop soon to refill the tank. And there were only a couple of hours of daylight left, so their plans might have to change. Again.

At least a car could travel faster than a van. And maybe if they stopped at every gas station on the way, they’d find someone who’d passed through for a refuel? It was a thought.

He started to mention his idea to Fenton, but noticed that the older man was asleep, his head lolling forward onto his chest. So Tino kept his eyes on the road, hoping they’d come across a service station soon.

 

They’d left the van with someone near the border, and changed into two four-wheel-drives. Unfortunately, it meant that Henrik and Nancy were separated. Fortunately, they were also forced to hide in the trunks, so border patrol wouldn’t see them. If border patrol _did_ check the backs… it wouldn’t end well for them. Nancy hoped that any suspicious behaviour would be noted, but not confronted.

They passed through with no trouble, and when she got hungry enough Nancy snacked on one of the sandwiches they’d bought at the last gas station they’d stopped at. She also had a plastic bottle of water, which she was grateful for as the temperature got steadily warmer in the trunk. Whether it was because of the small space, or whether she’d fallen asleep without realising and it was now approaching midday again, she wasn’t sure. But she needed a break to stretch her legs and get some fresh air.

At the Torrey Pines State Natural Reserve she’d at least had a chance to allow her legs to adjust to land again. But she hadn’t found any clues left by Marcos de Niza.

Well, she’d seen a cross carved into an old rock, but nothing else out of place or otherwise significant. She’d noted the placement of the rock, and Corine had promised to find out what she could. She, Nico, and Lori were continuing to stay in California, unless they found a new place to research. They’d already been to Guatemala. Lori’s father had reinstated some of her money, which she was now using to fund their part of the treasure hunt, while the Greek mafia took care of the rest, such as transport and supplies.

So now they were heading East. Nancy took a long swig of water, and nearly choked on it when they went over a bump in the road. She wished they’d given her and Henrik a pair of walkie talkies so they could keep in contact. At least she would’ve felt less lonely after being able to spend so many hours with him.

But she was safe in the trunk space, away from the bad guys who’d only hurt her if they could. And they would, if they thought no one was looking. Or were looking, but didn’t care. That could be any of the culprits she’d previously exposed.

Nancy wondered whether people had given up the search for her yet, or how long it would take. What if she and Henrik were killed somewhere in the desert, or even hidden in a mine shaft, and they were never found? When would they be officially declared dead?

Would she ever see her family and friends again?

 

“Okay, we’ve gotta try it out on someone who’s actually here,” Ryan said. “Rentaro, give me a couple of strands of your hair, then go hide. You know the place pretty well by now. We’ll start the drone up in about ten minutes.”

Rentaro gave her a few strands of hair and left, and Savannah and Wade watched on in fascination as Ryan opened the top of the body of the drone. There were bandaids, wipes, and a mini sewing kit evenly distributed in a sort of passage on the outside, and then there was a small box in the middle where she placed the DNA sample. Then she closed the top, and used her phone to activate the scan. Once enough of Rentaro’s genetic code was identified, Ryan started up the machine. Mason, Ellie, and Gray all stood nearby, watching. Mason and Ellie were monitoring the live data feed, and Gray was making notes by hand.

“How does it work?” Wade asked.

“You know how you can give a dog someone’s sock, and the dog will sniff the sock, then track down the matching scent?” Ryan said.

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s kinda like that. But dogs have a greater sense of smell than any kind of device a human can manufacture – so far – so Rentaro’s idea was to use DNA instead. Especially if someone’s covered in mud or whatever, or they’ve been swimming and they smell or salt or chlorine instead. Those kind of things can skew scent results in machines. This can only search for one genetic match at the moment. But hey, if we’ve pioneered a faster way of matching DNA, it’s still a breakthrough.”

“Ten minutes is nearly up, Ryan,” Gray said.

“Okay, let’s take this baby for a ride,” she said. She pushed her goggles back up into her hair. “Let’s go.”

She activated the drone, which immediately flew towards the floor. When its sensors told it that there was an obstruction, it flew around the workshop until Ellie opened the door. When the drone found its way out, they all followed at a run, opening the nearest doors to the drone’s intended destination. They finally found Rentaro hiding in the basement with the backup generator, and the drone hovered in front of its primary creator. Rentaro patted it on the head, smiling happily.

“We need to run at least three more tests,” Gray said. “I know time’s of the essence, but we need data. Maybe our new visitors should be test subjects. They’ve never been here before, so their DNA isn’t all over the place. It’ll give us a wider range of information to work with.”

“I’ll lead Savannah to one of the rooms she hasn’t seen,” Ellie said.

“We were planning to head off before it gets dark,” Wade said.

“It won’t take long, not the speed this drone goes at,” Gray said.

“We have to clean out the DNA capsule thoroughly,” Mason pointed out. “If there’s even one scrap of Rentaro’s DNA behind, it could throw off the results.”

“I hope your plans are flexible,” Ryan told Savannah and Wade.

“Always,” Wade replied, squeezing Savannah’s hand.

 

Leena entered the room to see Jamila poring over the latest magazines and papers they’d received. She placed a steaming cup on the table, and sat opposite.

“How’s Patrick?” Jamila asked.

“He’s preparing another lesson for his classes on serenity,” Leena said. “I’ve convinced him to stay away from pools for awhile, but he’s determined to have a class at one sometime. What’ve you found so far?”

“Nothing much at all,” Jamila said. “I received a message from Sonny. He’s going to stargaze from the Four Corners Monument tonight, and take notes.”

“Do you really think Nancy might be out there?”

“I’m sure Sonny thinks so. I hope she’s safe. We didn’t always get on – she has a terrible snooping habit, as I’m sure you’re aware – but she helped me achieve my goal of finding Nefertari’s body. Now I can focus on other things, such as SPIED. How is your translation going?”

“More than two third of the way through, by my estimation,” Leena said.

“Good work! We shall have to have a celebration when you’ve finished it.”

“Thanks. Anything of interest?” She indicated the journals. Jamila shook her head with a sigh.

“Maya Nguyen’s asking for more information on Nancy, and continuing to encourage people to use the help line,” she said. “I might call her, mention that we know Nancy, and see if there’s anything she can tell us that we don’t already know. And if there’s anything I can pass on to Sonny—”

“Who of _course_ isn’t in Colorado because of Nancy,” Leena added cheekily. Jamila rolled her eyes, smiling.

“No, of course he isn’t,” she said. “But there’s no harm on him following up on some leads, is there?”

“None at all.” Leena stood up. “Don’t work too late, okay? Everything will still be here tomorrow. I’m going home now, so goodnight, Jamila.”

“Goodnight, Leena.”

 

Dagny got a call early in the morning, and asked Logan to drive her to the airport, since they were staying at the same place and he could be trusted.

“What’s this all about?” he asked.

“Taylor Sinclair contacted an appraiser, since Colin Baxter was supposed to be doing that, but he’s… you know, not with them anymore,” she said. “He was asking about religious artefacts of the Aztecs, what kind of market there is for them. Especially if they were owned by the royal family. Bit of a risk for him to take.”

“It sure is,” Logan said. “But I guess the point of finding treasure isn’t to keep it, but to sell it, or collect whatever reward’s being offered.”

“I’ve certainly earned a living out of it,” Dagny said. “Anyway, I’ve told everyone I know that I’m interested in Nancy’s whereabouts, and since it got out that Taylor Sinclair’s involved – some article online, apparently – the appraiser told me. Since he’s in New Mexico, doing work for the Chaco Canyon Cultural Centre, that’s where I’m headed. There are appraisers all over the place, so it’s possible the kidnappers and hostages might be near New Mexico, or they’re expecting to be. It’s a lead, and I can’t just stay in one place. Carson’s busy, Fenton and Tino are coming from the other direction, the boys are still in Massachusetts, and Charleena’s on her way to Washington. Someone should be there for Nancy, if she’s there.”

“You really care about her, don’t you?” he said softly.

“About as much as you care about Bess,” she said. “And… in the same way.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“And… Nancy’s probably not—”

“We know she’s only ever had a boyfriend,” Dagny said. “That’s life. Maybe she’s just not interested in any romantic relationship with anyone. And that’s her choice. But it still hurts. _Really_ hurts. And as much as I wanna see her, I’d also feel bad about seeing her before her dad does. But someone would, even if it’s the police, and I think she needs the familiar faces.”

“You know, I’m starting to feel more optimistic about her coming out of this unscathed,” Logan said. “It’s weird, because it’s been so long. But suddenly everything is happening at once, and it just feels like that makes it more real. Like we’re about to reach this end of this. And maybe it’s the adrenaline, but it _really_ feels like everything’s gonna be okay.”

“I’m trying to focus on the positive, but it’s hard. The worry keeps bubbling up.”

“Now that Bess is giving me a second chance, maybe I’m seeing everything through rose-coloured glasses,” he admitted. “But Nancy’s indestructible.”

“But is Henrik?” she said. “I know I keep worrying about Nancy, but George is right. She’s not the only hostage. And if Nancy feels like she’s failed Henrik if something happens to him, she won’t get over that easily.”

“No. That’s true.”

 

Henrik took the opportunity of being on his own, stuffed in the boot of the four wheel drive – and thank God it wasn’t a mini or a Morris Minor – to measure up one of the screws against his right shoe. One of them was shorter than the others, and he removed his shoe, shoved the screw through the sole so that the sharp tip of it just poked out the other side, and then put the shoe back on. He felt the lump of the screw’s head between his toes, almost ticklish, and flexed his foot a few times.

Hardly an effective weapon, but he’d always been a fan of _Get Smart_ , and it felt like a suitable homage to pay attention to the show which invented the shoe phone.

He was concerned about Nancy. She’d used up two of the screws in her possession by dropping them in locations they might be found. She’d be down to one by now, assuming she hadn’t left the last of hers somewhere else. If they had another moment together, he would have to ensure that she was armed.

If only there wasn’t this eternal greed humankind had for gold. It wasn’t even about acquiring the substance through legal means. They wished to pilfer it from others, dig it right out of the ground. Nature wouldn’t have put gold in rocks solely to benefit human beings; it _belonged_ there.

Although if there really was no Cibola, and all they had to go on was Moctezuma II’s treasure, it wouldn’t just be precious metals. It would be precious artwork, religious relics which once held more meaning than being museum pieces, possibly destined for a private collection for the right price.

If they found the treasure, how much of it would Henrik be willing to sacrifice to protect Nancy? How much of history was he willing to compromise or destroy to keep her safe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many people love Nancy. And why not?
> 
> Please review! We’re getting so close to the end. Actually, I may as well start asking you now which pairings you’d like to see different endings for? They’ll be set after the events of this story (which Nancy will have to survive first), and could be any pairing which doesn’t already exist in this fic. I’ve tried to set the basis for some of the ships, so they’re not entirely unfounded.
> 
> Anyway, current possibilities are: Nancy/Frank, Nancy/Dave, Nancy/Colin, Colin/Soren, Nancy/Alec, Nancy/Zoe, Alec/Zoe, Nancy/Sonny, Nancy/Dagny, Nancy/Henrik, Alexei/Carson (because that accidentally happened)…
> 
> Yeah. I mean, there are other possibilities, although I won’t necessarily write three-way relationships because we haven’t encountered that in the games yet, otherwise I would totally throw Nancy in with Savannah and Wade. I’m trying to keep to the kind of thing we get in the games, so fairly tame as far as relationships go. I’m willing to allow other suggestions, so if you haven’t commented before and want your opinion heard, now is a good time to pipe up.


	25. Still Travelling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aka the chapter with the inaccurate title.
> 
> It's time for a break at the roadside, and some more lamb ragout. But Nancy and Henrik realise that Dwayne's refusal to accept Dagny's ransom offer spells bad things for them.
> 
> And Frank's closing in on the end of the case in Salem. Will they find what Ruth Hathorne hid over 150 years ago?

“Does this remind you of anything, Nancy?” Shorty asked amicably, passing her a bowl of stew. They’d pulled over to a disused campsite, and Nancy and Henrik were huddled together against the cold, everyone surrounding a bonfire. Nancy had helped build it, trying to catch glimpses of the news in the paper she had to crumple.

“You mean when we were at Shadow Ranch?” she asked. “You served the same lamb ragout on the ship. That’s when I realised you were aboard. It’s delicious as always. I’m kind of surprised you didn’t just go with your idea of writing a cookbook and making your own cooking channel.”

“That was all a cover, surely you knew that,” he said, passing a bowl to Henrik, who just looked grateful to have something warm.

“I realised it later, but it was still a good idea,” she said. “Then the so-called phantom horse came galloping up and the pump-house nearly exploded. How did you manage to pull that off? You only left me a few seconds before.”

“I _was_ working with other people,” Shorty said, sitting back down with his own bowl on the other side of the bonfire. “But I have a talent for calling animals. How else did you think I trained that horse?”

“You learn something new every day,” Nancy murmured, and she gulped down more stew. It definitely warmed her. They were only taking the break to give everyone a chance to stretch their legs, and have a proper meal, at least according to Shorty’s standards of a proper meal. Which were fairly gourmet.

“You should learn more Greek dishes,” Thanos grunted.

“Well, get me a recipe for souvlaki and I’ll oblige with the rest of the lamb,” Shorty said. “Assumin’ we’ve got the rest of the ingredients, and all the right cookware.”

Thanos rolled his eyes, and returned to his meal.

It was pretty nice being under the stars. Nancy rarely had time to stargaze, unless it was relevant to a mystery. After she was finished, and her hunger temporarily sated, she leaned back on her hands and stared at the heavens. Was her father looking out at the same stars right now? Were the Annunaki really somewhere out there? The legend had been around for a long time, but Nancy never gave it much thought until she met Sonny Joon, and heard his wild stories.

“Why did Soren and Colin help you?” Dwayne asked abruptly. Nancy reluctantly pulled her gaze from the stars.

“Colin had a crush on me in Venice,” she said. “And I never busted him for a crime. At least I _think_ he had a crush on me. I also looked at _hundreds_ of mosaic tiles he insisted on showing me.”

“But you definitely had Soren arrested,” Dwayne said. “He complained on the ship.”

“Well, I was friendly towards him, unlike most of the people in Skipbrot,” Nancy replied. “I could’ve pressed charges against him for trying to trap me in an ice cave, but I chose to show him mercy. Like I always do. So many times people have tried to kill me, but I only had them charged for the crimes they were already committing – or intended to commit – before I showed up. I guess it’s because I understand that people strike out when they’re upset or feel threatened. My dad taught me that. He’s a lawyer, so he knows a lot about human nature, probably more than he’s told me.”

“True,” Henrik said. “You were almost trapped in the obelisk at Beech Hill Museum, but Sinclair was never charged with attempted murder.”

“Soren got community service instead of jail time, and there was a general thawing of feelings towards him once people started to realise the role they’d played in sending him down the path of destruction,” Nancy said, while Taylor glared at Henrik. “I think he appreciated that. Magnus didn’t have him charged for kidnapping, either, even though that was what I went to investigate in Iceland.”

“Did you know that Dagny Silva offered a lot of money for your safe return?” Dwayne said. “Both of you. She went as high as twenty million. But what we’ve got in mind is so much better.” He rubbed his hands together, although many of the others looked at him incredulously.

“She really did?” Nancy asked softly.

“Yep. She said PG Krolmeister would probably chip in to up the ransom on you.”

“And… you didn’t accept it,” Henrik said. Nancy noticed the horrified look on his face, and the truth dawned on her.

The treasure they found might not be worth as much as twenty million dollars. It sure wasn’t worth taking the risk that it might not exist. They might’ve been able to get away with the ransom instead, but Dwayne had turned down the offer. It was doubtful he wanted the glory of finding long-lost Aztec treasure or a city of gold, assuming Cibola even existed.

No. He wanted revenge. He passed up a guaranteed share in twenty million dollars, maybe even more, because he intended to kill Nancy, and maybe Henrik.

“If… if you kill us, please make sure our bodies are found,” she said, and she clutched Henrik’s hand. “At least do that. Because of me you weren’t charged with the murder of Rick Arlen, not to mention everyone else within the vicinity of the bomb, which could’ve included Mattie Jensen. Just… bear that in mind, okay?”

“You mean we could’ve had that kind of money just by leaving them somewhere _safe_?” Shorty said. “All for a wild goose chase?”

“I’m not the only one here who wants revenge!” Dwayne snapped. “And Cibola will be worth more than a measly twenty million. A city made of _gold_ , remember?”

“From the journal of a man who could’ve been a raving lunatic,” Taylor said. “His eyes full of a golden prize he’d never get to take with him.”

“You should have discussed it with me, Powers,” Thanos said, his scowl intensifying by the second.

“What, and give the police a chance to triangulate our location?” Dwayne said. “No way. We do this _my_ way, because it was _my_ idea. We’ll find a city of gold, and we’ll loot it. How you deal with whatever you get is up to you. Taylor’s contacted an artefact appraiser in New Mexico, who can give us an evaluation on whatever we find. But _that girl’s_ days are limited. I promise, you’ll all get a turn to punish her for what she did to you.”

The rest of the men were silent for the remainder of the meal, while Nancy leaned into Henrik’s side, trembling with nerves, and the realisation that she never _would_ see River Heights again. She’d forgive them turning on her in a _second_ if it meant she got to return home alive.

That was looking less and less likely, the nearer they got to the place marked on El Toro’s map. Cibola.

 

“So what’s this all about?” Deirdre asked, sliding into the booth next to Ned. Frank and Joe were sitting across from him, Frank picking at his fries and Joe wolfing down a cheeseburger. “Hi, Ned. How was your last exam?”

“Not as bad as I thought it’d be,” he said. “How’s Mei doing?”

“She’s trying to cheer up, and Lauren Corey keeps bringing her baked goods to show that she’s on Mei’s side, which is actually kinda nice of her.”

“We met Lauren,” Frank said. “She was able to help us retrieve some information. I think I know who might’ve been behind the fire.”

“You sent me a message saying that it was Jenna Ravencraft,” Deirdre said.

“Yes, but the fire was apparently caused by a small spark from outside. It spread quickly thanks to an accelerant, which meant that someone intended to set fire to the place, but not necessarily just then. And hopefully not while Jason Danforth was trapped inside the upstairs library.”

“So tell us,” Joe said around a mouthful of burger. Deirdre looked at him with disgust.

“First of all, we need to return to that crypt for midnight,” Frank said. “Which is why we’re having dinner now. Something will open, or be able to be opened. We checked out the place today, after we met Lauren in the graveyard, and the position of the tombs in the crypt was the same as the boxes indicated in the two halves of the clue we found. If we follow the drawings at midnight, something _should_ happen.”

“How delightfully vague,” Deirdre said.

“Well, if it means the end of the case, and finding out whoever framed Mei, that’s a good thing,” Ned told her. Deirdre blew a strand of her off her face.

“I _guess_ ,” she said.

“Oh, this may not have anything to do with Mei being framed,” Frank said. “Joe and I contacted a few people, and it turns out that in Ruth Hathorne’s will—”

“Wait, wait, I thought you were here to help me clear Mei’s name,” she said.

“And we will. We’re getting there. But in Ruth Hathorne’s will she’d mentioned Hathorne House, and her wish that it could be used as a sort of museum to educate people about prejudice and the fear of people who are different. It could be relevant to the arson attack, and even to Mei being framed. The problem is that there was supposed to be a will which stated all of this specifically, but it was replaced by a _fake_ will ensuring that the house was passed through the family. Ruth found the real will, but she was forced to hide it out of fear. She wrote about this in a letter to Nathaniel Hawthorne, but he had enough problems without worrying about a house which didn’t belong to him anyway. He’d grown up there, but it wasn’t passed on to him.”

“Well, thanks for the history lesson,” Deirdre said. “But I have to go change if we’re going into that crypt again.”

“Deirdre,” Frank said. “I think Teegan was behind framing Mei.”

“Teegan is Mei’s _sister_.”

“Yes, and Lauren saw someone putting on white makeup and hand-made fashionable clothes the night of the fire,” Joe said. “Didn’t you say she was opening up her own clothing store in Salem?”

“But…” Deirdre’s thin eyebrows drew together. “They’re _sisters_. Teegan’s always been so protective of Mei.”

“We don’t know the reasons behind it,” Frank said. “It could be jealousy. That’s the theory I’m going on. Mei gets more attention from their parents.”

“No, Teegan’s always liked the freedom,” Deirdre said. “Look, I’ll talk to them about it. Tomorrow. But you’re gonna be wrong. I mean, Teegan’s not the arsonist type!”

“I think the arson attack was planned by someone else.”

“Oh my _God_ , how many criminals are there in Salem?” she exclaimed. “I’m _so_ moving after this.”

“Well, you’re studying criminology, so at least you’ve got some good case studies around here,” Joe pointed out, and he loudly slurped his milkshake.

“Frances Tuttle wasn’t the last descendent of John Hathorne,” Frank said.

“She wasn’t?” Ned asked. “Then who was?”

“We’ve got a list of names. The point is, if there’s someone else who can successfully claim to be descended from Hathorne, they can claim the property. So it’d be in their best interests to make sure the will stays hidden for good. The land would be worth a lot, even without the house. And with the house destroyed, the heritage listing is worthless, and the land can be developed.”

“It didn’t have time to finish burning down,” Deirdre said.

“No, which is a good thing. Because Joe and visited there today, and embroidered on the underside of a cushion in what might’ve once been Ruth Hathorne’s room, since you found that puzzle box in there, was a line from ‘The Haunted Mind’, by Nathaniel Hawthorne.”

“I found the puzzle box _behind_ a cushion,” she said slowly.

“It could be the same one! I think you were meant to follow what the pillow said, leading you to the key with HADLOCK carved on it, as well as the pictographs.”

“So… who _did_ set up for a fire at Hathorne House?”

“We’ll talk about that tonight, _after_ the crypt.”

 

Wade and Savannah collapsed onto their motel bed. They were tired after running around the laboratory and its grounds all day.

“I really thought we would’ve been at the Four Corners by now,” Savannah mumbled into Wade’s chest.

“Too dark now.”

“No… but near it. I can’t wait to be in four places at once. But.” She yawned, her jaw cracking under the strain. “Ow. But it’s all for Nancy.”

“Tomorrow, if they don’t need us at the lab anymore, maybe we could drive down to the Four Corners Monument then,” Wade said. “Take in the Rockies along the way.”

“Then I’d better get some sleep,” Savannah said. “I promised to drive, remember?”

“Okay, sweetheart. Sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable in pyjamas?”

“Too tired to move now. And you’re more comfortable.”

Wade chuckled softly, and they both drifted to sleep without any further thought.

 

Deirdre had had all the clothes she wore to the crypt last time cleaned _thoroughly_ , by professionals, right down to her sneakers. She slipped them on again, and grumbled when her phone rang. It wasn’t her ring-tone for Ned; it was for one of her uncles, the one who lived in Salem. Her mother’s younger brother, a business type, who thought Deirdre’s degree in criminology would be a waste of time. She had very little time for any of her family, but at least he’d never compared her to Nancy Drew.

He’d always lived in Salem, where her mother came from, so he didn’t know about the ace amateur detective. But he didn’t respect Deirdre’s decisions, so she didn’t respect him, either.

“Hey, Uncle Aaron,” she said. “What’s up?”

“I heard they’re planning to take Mei Parris back to jail,” he said.

“What? Why?”

“Because she was seen near that house on the night of the fire, that’s why.”

“No, someone using white makeup was seen near there,” Deirdre said. “Mei is Albino. She doesn’t need to use white makeup.” _But Teegan might_ , she thought, and then mentally kicked Frank Hardy. As hard as she could. He was putting all these traitorous thoughts in her head.

“You’re not _actually_ investigating this, are you?”

“She’s my friend, and she needs someone to defend her,” she said. “I asked if your lawyer would represent her, but you refused to give me his details. My parents did the exact same thing. So excuse me if I don’t feel like I have to justify my actions to you. Mei deserves better than to be framed, no matter what her ancestors did.”

“You have _no_ idea what you’re doing,” he said angrily.

“Look, you keep doing your thing, and let me keep doing mine,” she said. “Mom and Dad pushed me towards criminology, okay? It wasn’t exactly my first choice. They just want me to be like Nancy Drew—”

“Yeah, and she’s been kidnapped,” he said. “I think your parents need to ease up on their hero worship, if she’s that incompetent.”

Deirdre snapped.

“Uncle Aaron, don’t you _ever_ say that again!” she said. “Nancy Drew is worth ten of you, a… a hundred of you! She cares, and she was ready to let me do this my way, even though it’s been really hard, and I haven’t been able to call her for advice. I went to school with her, and yeah, it sucks knowing that my parents would prefer as a daughter. But she’s never rubbed that in my face, not once. And it’s really insensitive of you to say that she’s _incompetent_ when her friends and father are worried sick about her at the moment. She has people who care about her, and if something bad happens to her because she pulled over to talk to me on the phone, I’ll never forgive myself. But I can never forgive _you_ , either, for saying such mean things when she doesn’t deserve them!”

Deirdre jammed down the end call button, blocked her uncle’s number, and put her phone on silent. Then she continued to get ready to go out to the crypt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter went from being about travelling to being half about Salem instead. Oops.
> 
> On the other hand, maybe more of the past culprits will start to acknowledge that their sentences were lighter than they should’ve been, and will start to realise just how unhinged Dwayne is, especially since it’s lost them a hefty ransom. (And aw, Nancy knows how much Dagny cares!)
> 
> Please review!


	26. Split Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy is shocked to find out that the two cars have taken different directions, Henrik is shocked to find a connection centuries old, and Tino is shocked to see Nancy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Author is an idiot. I just looked up El Toro, and found out that he was around a century after Marcos de Niza. So any references to his hunt for Cibola being twenty years after de Niza’s –I’m pretty sure I’ve said that at some point – should be ignored. Might have to go back and fix it.

Nancy woke a few times, but it was always dark in the back of the car, and she was beginning to miss her cabin on the ship. It was bigger, there was a toilet, toilet paper, and a sink with soap. There was a bed with an actual mattress and a pillow, not to mention sheets to keep warm. And she had leg room.

The point is, she was uncomfortable, and had to be in disguise every time they stopped for a toilet break anywhere. With the constant driving, she had no idea where they were, and the same darkness meant that she had no idea of the time. She’d been stripped of her watch during the abduction. Maybe they were under the impression that because she could fix a Tesla coil, she could somehow tap into a satellite with the mechanical components of a wristwatch? It’d be a useful skill to have, if only Nancy _did_ have it.

At the next rest stop, Nancy was nearly blinded by what appeared to be the noonday sun. She shielded her eyes as Dwayne fixed a blonde wig over her hair and a woollen shawl over her shoulders to hide her shirt.

“Be quick about it,” he muttered, escorting her to the women’s bathroom.

When she emerged, her face still damp from when she’d tried to refresh herself with a splash of water, she looked around in suspicion.

“Why is there only one car?” she asked.

“Your friend van der Hune was insistent on following de Niza’s trail to the fake Cibola, so he’s being taken to the Zuni Pueblo to look for clues there. We decided to split up. One team heading to New Mexico, and _we’re_ heading for the Navajo area in Arizona to follow El Toro’s map. We’re communicating by phone so we don’t lose track of each other.”

“Henrik’s not here?” Nancy said, looking at Dwayne in dismay.

“Nope.” He grinned menacingly. “You’re stuck with us all on your own.”

Needless to say, the sandwiches she forced herself to eat sat like a lump of lead in her stomach.

 

Charleena continued to work on her laptop while Beatrice slept. When the redhead finally emerged from Jenna’s room – while Jenna stayed with Katie – she yawned, and then sniffed the air with interest.

“What _is_ that delicious smell?” she asked.

“Muffins, still warm from the oven,” Charleena said. “Sit down, Beatrice. I’ll fetch something for you to eat and drink. You look exhausted.”

“If you’d been through such a journey as I have, you’d feel exhausted and under-nourished as well, I assure you,” Beatrice said, shuffling over to the sofa. “Have you gotten much further along with your book?”

“You _would_ ask about that,” Charleena muttered, searching for plates. She found a small dinner plate, and loaded it with four muffins. She was familiar with Beatrice’s appetite. She added a small pat of butter to a tiny bowl, placed them on a tray with cutlery, and started up the kettle. Then she carried the meal out to Beatrice, who smiled again upon seeing her friend.

“Well, _have_ you?” she said.

“Not since your call,” Charleena said. “I was too distracted. But I started working on it again after I left River Heights. Aside from the flight, and car travel, it’s all I’ve been doing while waiting for you to wake up.”

“Some of my ‘sleeping’ on the ship was faked,” Beatrice said, and immediately stuffed half a muffin into her mouth.

“Emotional exhaustion feels physical,” Charleena told her. “At least I have a kernel of an idea for my next book.” Beatrice swallowed the muffin.

“Will I have to give my opinions on this one as well?” she said.

“Oh, you might like it. The male lead will be based on my assistant, Logan, and there’ll be shades of Jane Austen’s _Persuasion_ about it. He met a girl overseas and fell for her, even got one of her friends to help him. But they had to part ways at the end of the girl’s holiday. When they meet again, it’s because the same friend has disappeared under mysterious circumstances, and they try to set aside their feelings. But past mistakes on his part and resentment on her part cause the meetings to be fraught with tension. Will they reconcile? Will they be pulled apart again before they can come to an understanding? Of course, it would help if Logan and Bess could acquire a happy ending for me to write about. Happy endings aren’t a necessity, but when you’ve based characters on people you know… well, it would be awkward if things weren’t all smooth sailing. And obviously it won’t be set in modern times.”

“Who is this Beth?” Beatrice asked. “And what does she have to do with Larry?”

“She’s a friend of Nancy Drew, the young woman who was being held hostage with you on the ship,” Charleena said.

“Ah, I see. And how did you come to meet her?”

Charleena arched an eyebrow as she peered at Beatrice over the rim of her glasses.

“After your call, asking for information on Isabel Moctezuma, Logan and I went to River Heights, Nancy’s home town,” she said. “We’ve been there for weeks, helping with the investigation. We’re not the only ones, either. Savannah and Wade’s history could also make for an interesting story. Inspiration is all around.”

“I write non-fiction, Charleena. But these muffins are _delicious_.” She was up to number three, and slathered it with most of the remaining butter. Charleena wondered whether she should get more. “I can’t wait to brush my teeth again. I’ll desperately need to see a dentist after this.”

“Yes, dear,” Charleena said.

“Where are those two young men who assisted me off the boat?” Beatrice asked.

“No doubt repeating themselves over and over to various law enforcement agencies,” she replied. “Nancy and Henrik haven’t been found. Quite a number of the crew deserted the ship before the coast guard arrived. But Nancy was last heard from in San Diego. Prudence Rutherford has been keeping me up-to-date in emails, although I’m still part of the group messenger app, so I get some of my information from there as well. There’s now a national hotline for people to call in with information, quite a step up from the hotline set up by a tabloid magazine. I imagine there’s a great deal of information-sharing going on there.”

“Oh, I couldn’t eat another crumb,” Beatrice moaned, dropping her cutlery onto the plate with a clatter. “But tea wouldn’t go astray.”

“I’ll make some for you. Here’s the TV remote, if you want to check the news for yourself. There may be something I haven’t heard of yet.”

 

Henrik wondered what Friar Marcos de Niza had been thinking, centuries ago, when he had been standing in this exact same place. Was his life in as great a peril as Henrik and Nancy’s? Was he already wondering how best to write his report for Viceroy Mendoza, the fateful report which would lead to Coronado’s journey to find Cibola? Was he thinking of ways to hide Moctezuma II’s precious treasure for Doña Isabel? And if so, what clues might he have left?

“The Girard girl called,” Thanos said, walking up behind Henrik. “They have found something of interest.”

“What is it?” Henrik asked, eyeing him warily.

“The Franciscans taught reading and writing to many.”

“Not to Doña Isabel. She was associated with the Augustinians, no doubt why de Niza was sent to talk to her, to ask for support.”

“No, but El Toro learnt from the Franciscans.”

“…He _didn’t_. Did he?”

Thanos handed over his phone, and Henrik zoomed in on the photographed document which confirmed that, yes, Juan Ignacio de Santa Ana Domingo had indeed been a pupil of the Franciscans. He was born in America, and it was likely that he had heard tales of Cibola growing up.

They had discovered another diary, written by a junior member of the same Franciscan order, who mentioned El Toro’s interest in Fray Marcos’s journey. They sent photographs of any passage where both names were mentioned together.

“I must translate this,” he murmured. “Do you have pen and paper?”

He was provided with stationery, and Henrik perched on a rock beneath a tree. He scribbled down notes, his heart pounding in excitement.

“This is extraordinary,” he said. “El Toro was _obsessed_ with de Niza. The young Franciscan even heard him mention treasure once. It was before El Toro set sail for Spain. Treasure… Could there be _any_ other documents by Fray Marcos or El Toro?”

“Why?” Sinclair asked, leaning against the tree beside Henrik.

“Perhaps El Toro found Marcos’s diary where he related his conversations with Doña Isabel, and before leaving for Spain he traversed America and found the treasure himself, but left it out of respect for de Niza. Perhaps the Cibola on his map does not exist. Perhaps it is the location of the treasure of Doña Isabel Moctezuma! Oh, but I _need_ more information. This is mere speculation.”

“Cibola could exist,” Sinclair said.

“And perhaps it is instead a place where men hid treasures of old to protect them from those who would sell them to the highest bidder for ten percent commission,” Henrik said. Sinclair sneered, and Henrik stood up, handing everything back to Thanos. “A great pity for you all that Powers gambled a guaranteed twenty million dollars on a possible pittance of a treasure trove.”

He straightened his shirt, feeling a bit like James Bond tugging his cuffs into place, and strode back to the car.

 

“Okay, the boys have wrapped up the case in Salem,” Fenton said. “They’re on their way back to River Heights. They offered to meet us somewhere, but it’d take too much time, and we don’t need to be slowed down.”

“Looks like we might need their help,” Tino said. “You know how the van was ditched and they split up into two four-wheel drive cars?”

“Yes, we’ve seen footage of them at a gas station. What’s the problem?”

“The cars have now split up, and there’s no footage of where or when that might’ve happened. We could probably extrapolate the time and location, but the point is that they’re gonna be more difficult to trace apart, and we’ve only got the one car.”

“Okay.” Fenton rubbed his temples. “We know they’re heading East, so we’ll keep going that way. I’ll take over the wheel; you keep on at your contacts.”

“If only Nancy or Henrik could contact us somehow,” Tino grumbled. “If we knew where they were headed—”

“They could be shot dead,” Fenton said.

“What makes you think Powers and Ganas are gonna let them live anyway?”

Fenton clenched his jaw.

“We’re not gonna think like that,” he said. “Nancy’s resourceful. They’ll escape.”

 

It was afternoon, according to Shorty’s watch, by the time they stopped again. Nancy leaned against him after stretching for awhile, just because she was tired from a restless, uncomfortable nap after lunch. She kept worrying about when Dwayne would decide to kill her.

“How you holdin’ up?” Shorty asked.

“Still alive, for the moment,” she said. “Any idea how far it is to Colorado?”

“I think we’re near the border,” he said. “You haven’t been there before?”

“Not this far South,” she said, shielding her eyes again. She yawned. “Good thing the map shows Cibola to be at the base of the Rocky Mountains; I don’t think I could face climbing them at the moment. Maybe one day.”

“It seems you’ll only go there if there’s a mystery to be solved,” he remarked.

“I probably won’t get that again,” she reminded him softly.

Dwayne was grinning as he hung up.

“Good news for you, Nancy,” he said.

“I’m finally allowed to go home?” she asked dryly, hiding her trembling hands beneath her arms.

“No, that’s not happening,” he said, bouncing on his heels. “But the others are rejoining us. They’re already on their way; we’ll only start driving again if the police come along. If they’re smart, they won’t.”

“It sounds like it won’t make a difference to whether we live or die.”

“True.” He shrugged. “But it seems El Toro found where Montezuma’s treasure was hidden by that priest.”

“So I _was_ right. We were meant to research Isabel and de Niza all along!”

“Yeah, enjoy it while it lasts, girl detective,” Dwayne said dismissively. “Get back in the car. The traffic seems to be picking up.”

Nancy glanced at the passing cars as she was led to the back of the four-wheeler. She noticed, among others, a rental car driving past. For a second, she even thought she recognised Fenton Hardy in the front seat. But since the guy with him looked like Tino Balducci, she told herself to stop imagining things, and climbed into the back.

 

Wade took a picture of Savannah looking down from the pathway. They’d decided not to walk all the way to the top of the Blanca Peak, since Wade hated heights and Savannah hadn’t brought the right shoes. Wade’s boots were too big for her feet, and they were the only ones he had. So they’d walked for awhile, stopping from time to time to drink water and top up their energy with trail mix.

“You’re beautiful,” Wade said. Savannah smiled over at him as he took another picture, and she laughed, ducking her head.

“You’ve always been a sweet guy,” she said.

“You inspire it, Savannah.”

She looked down again, smiling broadly, a faint blush on her cheeks. Wade joined her at the ledge, and looked over the ground below. It made him feel light-headed being this high up, and he turned his back quickly. Savannah didn’t comment; she squeezed his shoulder and ran her hand down to capture his.

“You know what’s funny?” she said. “Lookin’ down like this, the shadow cast by the sun looks kinda like a cow or something. Like a buffalo, that’s it! I’m kinda surprised it isn’t called Buffalo Valley.”

“Maybe it used to be called that,” Wade said. “Before the Europeans settled in the area and called everything by _their_ names.”

“Blanca Peak is also called White Shell Mountain,” Savannah said. “No wonder. The rock’s so light it’s probably blinding when the afternoon sun hits it.”

“Yeah.” Wade handed her his phone. “Wanna take some pictures?”

“I can use my own cell phone,” she said. “Could… could you see if there are any updates on Nancy?”

“Sure thing.” He kissed her on the forehead.

While Savannah snapped a few images, Wade checked the app. He stood up straight when he saw the latest message posted by Tino.

“They saw her,” he said. Savannah whirled around.

“What?” she asked. “Who? _Where_?”

“Tino thought he saw one of the cars they were searching for by the roadside, and when they checked the footage on the car’s camera they realised it was her. They can’t approach in case she gets hurt, but they’re near the border between Utah and Arizona, and pretty close to New Mexico and Colorado.”

“Near _us_ ,” Savannah whispered.

“Looks like.”

She slipped her phone into her pocket.

“We have to get back down, Wade,” she said. “Right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things should be coming to a conclusion soon. So… yeah. Feeling less suicidal by now, although yesterday definitely had its down points. Anyway, I’ll try to post this before the temporary AO3 shutdown.
> 
> Another possible relationship to add to the previous chapter’s list would be Beatrice/Charleena, although they probably are just friends. The friendship is implied in ‘Tomb of the Lost Queen’.
> 
> Please review!


	27. The Treasure of Moctezuma the Second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author is confused by American geography. Who knew the Rocky Mountains were so... well... Rocky? I blame Canada's beautiful landscapes for giving me an unrealistic expectations of what the Rockies would look like.
> 
> Nancy and Co have finally reached the Rocky Mountains in Colorado, and are hot on the trail of the treasure. What will they find? And will Nancy and Henrik be rescued in time?

“Be safe,” Mary told Tex, and she kissed him on the cheek. He blushed, just visible beneath his wide-brimmed hat.

“We will,” he said gruffly. “I’ll watch `im. Horses will, too.”

He mounted without fuss, and tipped his hat to his wife. Ed and Bet were standing in the shade, and Dave was perched on Bob, fiddling with his reins uncomfortably.

“Let’s get goin’, Tex,” he said.

“Take care of yourselves, boys!” Bet called, waving.

“And the horses,” Ed said.

“Later,” Dave said, and he tapped his heel against Bob’s side. The reliable old horse began to plod along, and Tex squeezed Alice’s sides, urging her to catch up. The rodeo wasn’t enough of a distraction for Dave. Since there were no competitions of interest to him that day, Tex was taking him for a ride around the countryside while Mary and the Rawleys did some sight-seeing. Mary planned to advertise the work of local artists from near the ranch, including her own, and Ed and Bet needed time away from the press of the rodeo crowds.

If there was something they could do to help, they’d be doing it, as far as Tex was concerned. The best he could do right now was keep an eye on his… ‘friend’, if that’s what they were to each other. Tex didn’t have friends, outside of Mary and the horses. He wasn’t even friends with his sister.

“Let’s head t’wards the mountains first,” Tex suggested. “Sun’s on th’ other side at the moment, so it’s a good time t’ catch the shade.”

There were a couple of people running off the mountain path, and the horses nearly reared up. Dave and Tex quietened Bob and Alice swiftly.

“Sorry, we’re in a hurry!” the woman called. She and the man ran off, hand-in-hand, and Tex rolled his eyes.

“City slickers,” he muttered.

 

Nancy was finally allowed to sit up in the back, and waved to Henrik in the other car, relieved to see him still alive. She wasn’t allowed a window seat, in case she tried to escape, but she ducked her head sometimes to see more of the passing landscape, and wished she had a camera or phone with her.

“You’d better be right about the Rocky Mountains,” Dwayne said, speaking over his shoulder from the front passenger seat.

“It would match El Toro’s map,” Nancy said. “At first I thought it was going to be in the La Plata Mountain Range, Plata meaning ‘silver’, which could also be a sign. But the explorers were after gold, and I don’t think the Aztecs used silver; it was probably a European name. I’m sure the location we’re looking for is in the Sierra Blanca Massif, at the base of the highest peak.”

“I wasn’t planning to get rid of Henrik once he outlived his usefulness to us,” Dwayne said. “But then I expected to have two hostages to… encourage you to find the treasure. At least we still have him for incentive. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

They bumped along, now driving off-track; that was probably the reasoning behind using four-wheel drive vehicles. They all climbed out, Shorty giving Nancy a hand down to the ground, and she thanked him quietly before going straight to Henrik.

“Did anything happen?” he asked softly.

“No,” she said. “I’m fine.”

“Good. Let’s find this treasure, shall we?”

They walked. And walked. Clearly the drivers hadn’t parked close enough to the mountains for them to reach the base in five minutes. But they had a map, and there were a few signs scattered around the area. They drank water, Andy carrying the bag of spare bottles. Henrik kept Nancy’s arm linked in his, partly to steady both of them over the rocky ground as they walked through the pass, and partly to make sure they couldn’t be separated without realising it.

“Wish we could take a path up there,” Nancy muttered. “They’re probably paved.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Henrik said. “There don’t seem to be many paths around here. Pity we’re not better prepared for this.”

“What did the Zuni Pueblo look like?” she asked.

Henrik was silent for a minute. Nancy was patient, trying to avoid a twisted ankle.

“It was humbling,” he said. “And suntanned. Parts of it felt untouched by time and tragedy, but then I’d remember that Fray Marcos and Coronado had both stood in that same place centuries ago, and I’d wonder how much the area has changed.”

“Well, _this_ place certainly isn’t suntanned,” she said. “We’re here, and this place is just… granite. It’s dark grey.”

“Ah, but when the sun hits it… look! At that peak. That may be the peak we’re looking for. You can see how bright the stone is with the sun on it.”

“There’s some grass up there,” she said. “But otherwise, it’s just… barren.”

“It _is_ autumn, Nancy.”

“Still… I can’t see it being an easy climb. Can you even see anything which might have a clue?”

“Binoculars. If we had binoculars, perhaps we could see something.”

“Pity we left our only pair on board the ship,” Dwayne said.

“Hmm.” Nancy looked around. “It can’t be the smaller rocks all over the ground, because they’d move around too much. Fray Marcos knew that, El Toro would’ve known it as well. But I can’t see any indication of… a cave, or a mine. No hiding places at all. It’s too open. No centuries’-old trees. If anyone hid anything here, especially with whatever resources they had in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, it had to be something unchanging.”

“Like the mountains themselves,” Henrik said.

“Yes.” Nancy’s gaze ran over the ground. “Or underground. Remember, El Toro drew the pyramid at the _base_ of the mountain.”

“Or the top of a valley. The map was quite crude, and there were no markings to suggest what the darker patches represented.”

She traced the line of shadow, and glanced to the top of the mountain. “They never mentioned any time of day, and we don’t know when El Toro visited Colorado.”

“That’s correct,” he said.

“But… there’s something…” She started towards the base of the Blanca Peak. “I have to check something out. I’ll be back down soon!”

“Wha… go with her!” Dwayne said, gesturing wildly. Nancy heard two sets of feet running after her. She looked back, and saw one of the armed guards and Taylor.

“Good, you can stop me from falling,” she said. “Come on! It’ll be noon in less than an hour.”

“You’d better have a good reason,” Taylor grumbled. “I’m not used to running around like this. I’m wearing leather shoes!”

“You had time to pack for this trip,” she said. “I didn’t.”

They eventually reached a ridge, and Nancy looked down to the landscape below. It was a near-perfect outline of a buffalo.

“I _can’t_ be that simple,” she whispered. “But… I don’t know how to interpret this. What am I supposed to look for? What time of day? I need more details.”

“What are you _looking_ at?” the guard asked.

“Don’t you see the shape the mountains have made? With the shadow?”

“Some kind of bull,” Taylor said with a shrug. Nancy rolled her eyes.

“Let’s get back down to ground level before Dwayne blows a gasket,” she said.

Once they were on solid ground again – or as solid as the ground could be when it was covered in unsteady rocks – Nancy stood beside Henrik again.

“There was speculation that the name Cibola came from the word for ‘buffalo’,” she said. “There were a lot of bison herds around the Zuni area, so the name may’ve been a Native American prank on the Spanish. I kind of like that theory.”

“So do I,” Henrik said, grinning as he crossed his arms.

“What does this have to do with your little run up the hill?” Dwayne demanded.

“The shadow from the mountain in the morning makes the shape of a buffalo,” she said. “If El Toro had written down any times, or any other directions, we might’ve been able to find the treasure more easily. As it is, we’d just be digging around with no idea of where to look.”

“Just _figure it out_ ,” Dwayne said.

“But…” His scowl deepened. “Okay.”

“Nancy,” Shorty said. “You remember finding Dirk Valentine’s treasure?”

“Yeah, it was in cave dwellings,” she said. “There were markings on the… hang on, I also had to find petroglyphs. You think something might be carved into the rocks? If it hasn’t eroded away over time, maybe with avalanches or too much rain… If there’s a flat enough surface around here, something could be left. Let’s spread out. If anyone finds anything, just holler.”

“Neither of you are going alone,” Dwayne said.

“Fine, but we have to be quick,” Nancy said. “Let’s search this side first. It’s the one which cast the shadow of a buffalo. I’m starting with the head, down this end. Look for anything which looks like a drawing carved into the rock. Take photos if you can. But most of all, alert either Henrik or me, whoever’s closest.”

There was some grumbling, but they straggled out along the rocks, searching for petroglyphs. There wasn’t anything near the head, but further along the body, the front of the torso – where the heart was? – Taylor called out that he’d found something. He started copying it down, and when no one else found anything resembling pictures, they converged on his spot, Andy and his guard joining them last of all. With a bit of help, they bared the rock as much as possible, moving loose stones out of the way, until a set of six petroglyphs was revealed.

“Great work, Mr. Sinclair,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “Okay. Henrik, what do you think they mean? Dirk Valentine used petroglyphs to form the shape of one of them on a piece of paper, but I don’t know whether he drew them himself.”

“They’re not the typical sort,” he said, squatting beside her in front of the rock face.

“They’re sure not the same as the ones in Arizona.”

“If these were carved by El Toro, or perhaps even de Niza, if he ever travelled this far, they won’t be the same as Native American drawings. And de Niza didn’t have time to travel here on the first journey. There was even doubt that he reached as far as the Zuni area in the time allowed, although this was later disproved.”

“We need to copy these,” Nancy said. “Were there other drawings?” The men shook their heads. “Okay. Maybe there’s some kind of cave. How do you find underground tunnels in mountains? I had to use a cannon once, but it was already in position.”

“This could be a headdress, like the one associated with Moctezuma the Second,” Henrik said, pointing to the first symbol. “And look… there even seems to be a cross in it. Indicating royal treasure in the care of the church? Fray Marcos?”

“It could be!”

“Then a circle with lines going out. That’s fairly obvious.”

“It could be the sun, but it _could_ have different nuances,” Nancy said. Henrik smiled, obviously remembering their first meeting, when he’d told her about the process of interpreting Mayan glyphs.

“Perhaps the noon day sun?” he said.

“It’s nearly noon now,” Shorty said, checking his watch.

“Here’s a bison,” Nancy said, tracing the third symbol, in the first column of the second row. “It’s a bit hard to see—”

“Then _feel_ it,” Henrik said. “This is rock, not a breakable vase. You can’t hurt it.”

“It… under one of the feet, there’s a tiny cross. An ‘x’ cross, not a religious one.”

“Which foot?”

“One of the back feet, the third one along. So not right at the back.”

“And what’s next?” he asked. “The sun’s starting to come over now; it’s hard to see without sunglasses.”

“Looks like a shovel. Dig where the third foot along is located? But there aren’t any feet; it’s just the top of the bison.”

“We may just have to search along from the rear end of the shadow,” he said. “Did anyone know where that was? The shadow’s swiftly disappearing.”

“No,” Nancy said. “It’ll be where the shadow is when the sun is highest in the sky.”

“And the last two symbols?” Dwayne said impatiently.

“Hold your horses,” she said, shifting to her knees. “There’s some arrows here. Someone copy them down. Forward, right, left, forward again, right again.”

“Got it,” Dwayne said, typing on his phone while Taylor scribbled it down.

“Then the last symbol is fire. A light, I guess? Do we have a flashlight?”

“Or a spade?” Henrik asked.

“We’ve got something better,” Dwayne said. “Andy, empty out the bottles.”

Andy blankly removed the bottles of water, and Nancy was grateful to have another drink after walking around for so long, and then racing up the hill. Then Andy produced what looked like an old tape player… oh no.

“You brought a _bomb_?” she said.

“Live and let die, Nancy,” he said. “It’s nearly noon. You all stay back here. We’re going for a little walk.”

Henrik had to be held back by two of the Greek guards, while Dwayne hauled Nancy along, forcing her to carry the bomb, which was nearly identical to the one he’d left in Rick Arlen’s dressing room. He held a gun against her back, and now Nancy had ten times the incentive not to trip suddenly.

“And now… it’s twelve,” Dwayne said. “The sun’s high. Where’s the bison leg?”

“Looks like it’d be around here,” Nancy said. “Will the explosion be big?”

“Yes, but go big or go home, Miss Drew. Didn’t you learn _anything_ about show business while you were pretending to be an extra at WWB?”

“Life isn’t a soap opera,” she said. “Remember?”

“Just set the bomb, and stand back here,” he said. “Actually, run back over here, to the side. Just in case there’s a landslide.”

“I hope there aren’t any other people around,” Nancy muttered. She followed the shadow of the bison as best she could, and set the bomb according to Dwayne’s instructions. Then she ran back to his side, and covered her ears.

The explosion certainly shook a lot of stones loose, but it also revealed a cave. Nancy shook the trembling feeling out of her legs. Then she preceded Dwayne into the caves, only his phone to light the way.

“At least we won’t find his bones here,” she said. “Those were on Dread Isle.”

“Quiet!” he snapped. “Here’s a cross section.”

“It was forward first,” she said.

“Lead the way, little miss detective.”

They walked through the passages, stepping over bits of debris, some probably shaken down by the explosion. Shovels would’ve been slower, but also quieter. If anyone was in the vicinity, they would’ve heard the explosion, and would investigate.

“Hey, there are stairs here!” Nancy said, after they turned left.

“After you.”

Instead of the usual excitement she felt when she came close to solving a puzzle, Nancy felt dread. Dwayne would no longer need her after this, and he’d either destroy everything he found in a fit of temper – unless they really did find an underground city of gold – or he’d steal artefacts which belonged to Doña Isabel’s people. It was completely unfair that greedy men like him should get their hands on religious relics.

Assuming there was anything left, and El Toro’s map had been a boast, not a clue. Was the treasure part of the Spanish hoard which had sunk with the rest of his fleet?

They reach the top of the stairs, and turned right again. At the next juncture, they continued forward until they found a small room, with a strange-looking wall on the right. It had seams at the corners. El Toro had rigged up a closable cave before, on Dread Isle. Had he done the same thing here?

“Where’s the gold?” Dwayne said.

“I told you there probably wouldn’t be any,” Nancy said. “Henrik told you that as well. Any research would’ve—”

Dwayne slapped her, and Nancy touched her stinging cheek in shock.

“There was a _map_ with a _golden pyramid_ ,” he said slowly. “ _You_ found it for me. Now find me the treasure!”

“Give me your phone so I can see,” she said. He complied, and she searched the walls, beginning with the left. There was an alcove, which didn’t hold much… although it looked like there was movement inside. Nancy didn’t dare reach in.

“What’s there?” he said.

“I’m not sure. I’m gonna finish exploring first.”

On the far wall, she looked high and low, and found some low-growing plant. She cleared it out of the way, and found a long sentence in Spanish.

“Uh, it says… ‘Only the worthy will find the treasure, and the false will be doomed to a… bitter death’? I think that’s bitter. I didn’t get that many lessons from Henrik, but parts of it are close enough to French, which Hotchkiss was teaching us.”

“But the _treasure_ ,” Dwayne said. “Where is it?”

“Let me try over here,” she said, walking back to the way they’d come in. “The instructions didn’t say to go any further forward, or which side to choose, so maybe there’s something near the door.” She examined the walls from the door outwards, and realised that there was a straight line of rocks along the floor. She knelt down, and shuffled along on her knees, studying them. “There are drawings on these.”

“Are there any marked ‘treasure’?”

“I’m checking.” There was a cross on one, which Nancy dismissed; Moctezuma’s treasure wouldn’t be Christian artefacts. She found a rock with a crown and a chest of coins carved on it. “This one has treasure. I’ll just check the others.”

As soon as she was out of the way, continuing to look, Dwayne snatched the phone from her, found the treasure stone, and pressed it in. There was a loud clicking sound from the alcove Nancy had found before, and he ran over to it.

“There’s a lever poking out!” he exclaimed. He stuck his hand into the alcove, presumably to pull the lever, and then screamed in pain. He yanked his hand out, dropping his phone, and Nancy noticed a scorpion running away. Dwayne sank to the floor, gasping pained breaths, and Nancy scuttled to his side.

“Hold still,” she said. “Keep calm. Take the deepest breaths you can. Sometimes scorpion stings cause the throat to feel like it’s swollen, and I haven’t got a pen or a knife to give you a tracheotomy.”

“It kind of hurts,” Dwayne said faintly. “It’s also kinda numb.”

“Just sit still. I’m gonna check your phone for instructions on treating a scorpion sting. _Darn_ it.” She tried to use the internet. “No reception. Look, it was only a little scorpion. Just hang in there. I can get help.”

“Door,” he slurred.

Nancy heard a scraping sound, and looked behind her to see a stone rumbling up from the threshold of the door, sealing them in. The debris in the room was finally explained: thoroughly decomposed corpses. Nancy took the light back to the stones, and wondered about the cross. But she hadn’t checked all the stones, and searched until she found… a knife, or a sword. That’s what it looked like.

The Aztec religion involved sacrifices. That she knew. Was this going to lead to the treasure, or at least an exit? Nancy pressed down on the stone, and waited.

Another click from the alcove. She crept back there, stepping over Dwayne, who was whimpering and moaning.

“Which way was the lever sticking out?” she asked him.

“L-left,” he said. The one Nancy was looking out was sticking out from the right.

“Here goes nothing,” she said, and she gingerly tugged at it.

Air! Light! She turned to see the entire right wall divide down the middle, each side disappearing into the edge. It dislodged stones which had been concealing the exit for possibly centuries. Nancy ran to the opening, and smiled in disbelief. The sun had struck the opposite mountain, and it did shine brightly. Like the pueblo de Niza had described. Not quite like gold, but still metallic. A dark silver.

“We have a way out, Dwayne!” she said, leaning against the wall in relief.

“Good.”

She barely had time to turn before he shoved, and Nancy grabbed onto the edge of the wall, screaming as her feet scrabbled for purchase on the rock. There was a straight drop for several feet, and rocks were still skidding down.

Then the most unexpected thing happened. A drone zipped up to her, and stopped inches away from her face. Nancy held tight, and glanced past to Dwayne, who batted at the drone with his uninjured hand. He seemed to be going cross-eyed, and the drone didn’t react well to being hit. It rammed back against him.

Dwayne teetered on the edge, and then seemed to be propelled forward. Nancy looked away, and caught her breath before climbing into the cave. She heard several voices calling her name from below, and looked up at the drone.

“Hello?” she said.

“Nancy!”

She frowned in confusion as the machine spoke to her in a familiar voice.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“I do not blame you for forgetting me,” he said mournfully.

“Rentaro?”

“Oh! You do remember? We are on our way. If you need first aid, open the top of the drone. There are some things inside.”

Nancy didn’t question it. She thanked him, and then opened the lid. She probably had a lot of bruises and numerous cuts, not enough for the kit to cover, but it was a kind thought, and a really useful invention.

There was another scraping noise, and Nancy spun around, expecting to see the cave close up again. But instead, either side of the doorway, two larger alcoves were opened. Inside were pieces of ceremonial armour reminiscent of the Aztecs, daggers stained with old blood, and panels with drawings, including what must have been a picture of Moctezuma II with his wife, and his children represented below. Each had the same inscription on the base of the alcove, and Nancy leaned close enough to read.

“‘Only the children of Doña Isabel can touch these’,” she said. “There are bound to be descendents. Of course, how El Toro arranged such a thing I don’t know. But… it’s best not to mess with his wishes. Thank you, El Toro. And Friar Marcos. I’ll make sure these go to the right people.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh lordy, that chapter turned out longer than expected. Oh well. I hope it lived up to expectations. Now we can get on with the reunions and so forth! And then get-togethers, though that’ll probably be a separate story, simply because this is the mystery part, and I don’t want romance to take the focus away.
> 
> Please review!


	28. Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy and Henrik are safe, and ready to head for River Heights on the next plane.

Nancy returned to the cave opening, and saw two men on horseback with the growing crowd below. There were police vehicles there, and Henrik was being tended to by a couple of people. She even saw someone with brightly-coloured hair below, but there was no way Sonny Joon would be out here. She leaned back against the wall, where Dwayne had nearly pushed her off, and looked up at the stone around there. A walkway ended nearby, and she swore she could see writing. Using the zoom function on Dwayne’s phone, she checked to see if it was another message.

Oh, it was, alright. But much more recent.

_Sonny wuz here_.

She looked down at the ground again, but the colourful figure was already striding away. Nancy realised that her name was being called again, and squinted to see the horseman better.

“Nancy!”

“Dave?” she said, disbelieving. Why was he in Colorado?

Whatever the reason, the end of a lasso hooked around a rocky outcrop at the other side of the cave. Nancy edged along, and managed to tug the rope to tighten its hold on the rock. She tucked Dwayne’s phone into her back pocket, grabbed the rope, and gradually climbed down. When she got close enough, the drone a comforting presence nearby, she jumped the last couple of feet, and someone steadied her.

“Wade?” Nancy said.

“Oh, honey, you’re _safe_!” Savannah said.

“What’s going on?” Nancy said. “Did that scorpion get me, too?”

“There are bandaids in the drone,” Rentaro reminded her.

“Hi, Nancy! Can she hear me?”

“I’m sure she can hear you, Ryan.”

“Ryan _Kilpatrick_? Rentaro, are you in Colorado, too? I’m not hallucinating?”

“Nancy,” Henrik murmured. With a relieved sigh, she threw herself into his arms, grateful that they were both safe, and surrounded by friends. Savannah and Wade hugged them as well, and there were cheers coming from the lab through the drone.

“Nancy!” Fenton Hardy jogged up to them, followed by… it really _was_ Tino! “I’ve just called your father to say you’re safe. We’re heading back to River Heights. You can give your statement there. Both of you, if Henrik wants to come with us.”

“Hi, Mr. Hardy,” Nancy said, hugging him as well. “Tino, what’re you doing here?”

“He’s been helping us look for you,” Fenton said. “He saw you when we passed you on the roadside.”

Smiling gratefully, Nancy hugged Tino as well. Then she looked around.

“Where’s Dwayne?” she asked.

“In an ambulance, still alive,” Fenton said.

“And Sonny Joon? I thought I saw him down here?”

“He must’ve disappeared,” Tino said. Nancy turned to Dave and Tex, who were now standing beside their horses. She recognised Alice and Bob, and hugged all four of them, even though Tex protested a bit. But he hugged her back, so Nancy figured it was all for show. Especially when he whispered that he was glad she was safe.

“I wanna go home,” Nancy said, stepping back. “But we have to get the treasure down safely. You need to find Doña Isabel Moctezuma’s descendents. They’re the only ones who can take the treasure.”

“Okay, okay, you can tell us all about it soon,” Fenton said. “But let’s get you hydrated and looked over by some medical professionals, hmm?”

“Can I talk to my dad? On the phone?”

“Absolutely.”

“Oh, here. This is Dwayne’s.” She handed Tino the cell phone. “Better make sure someone looks it over, in case there’s anything incriminating.”

“He incriminated himself plenty, trust me,” Tino said. “Good to see you safe and sound again, Nancy.”

“You’d better get healthy again,” Savannah said. “You’re gonna be one of my bridesmaids, honey.”

“You’re _engaged_?” Nancy said. “Just how much have we missed?”

 

The entire crew from the lab met them at the hospital, having followed the drone to the mountains. Nancy caught up on what they’d been doing, including the DNA-tracking drone Rentaro had designed. She asked him about the Ryokan while Fenton arranged plane tickets for River Heights. Tino planned to drive the rental car back to California, after turning in Dwayne’s phone, and Wade and Savannah would drive back to River Heights. Aunt Bet and Uncle Ed fussed over Nancy, and Mary showed Nancy pictures from the rodeo. Henrik called various other academics to assure them that he was alive and well, and they video-called Hotchkiss, who was still in Snake Horse Harbour with Charleena Purcell.

Nancy, of course, talked to her father first of all. It was a huge relief to hear his voice again, and she couldn’t help shedding a few tears as she reassured him that she’d be catching a flight home soon, and all he had to do was pick her up at the airport. As soon as Fenton had an estimated arrival time, Nancy told her father, and he promised to be there.

She also thought to call Ned, and ask whether he’d heard anything from Deirdre about what was happening in Salem.

“Yeah, that’s all wrapped up now,” he said. “It wasn’t the best ending, but if people are gonna commit crimes… anyway, Joe and Frank will tell you all about it. They should be back in River Heights by now.”

“Aw, did they visit while I was missing?” Nancy asked. “I hate just missing them.”

“…Nancy, do you _know_ how many people travelled to River Heights to help your father collect information about your disappearance, and your possible whereabouts? Maya wrote about it for the magazine she works for, and they were the first to set up a hotline. People in the neighbourhood took Togo for walks and cooked so Hannah wouldn’t have to. Dagny, Mr. Hardy, and Tino all kept bugging their contacts for anything they’d heard. People overseas kept an ear out for information. Rentaro travelled all the way to America to get that drone to Colorado. Wade and Savannah went to the place where you’d been abducted in case Savannah could get a reading, or whatever she does, and then went to River Heights to help out. Charleena Purcell and Logan also went there, since Professor Hotchkiss contacted her. And this is just what I’ve heard from Frank and Joe while they were in Salem, trying to help Deirdre with the case!”

“Are you serious?” she said.

“A lot of people care about you, Nancy.”

“Thanks, Ned. I’ll visit soon, I promise. But I won’t travel alone next time.”

 

During the flight to River Heights, Nancy got the middle seat and Henrik the window so Fenton could fend off the people who’d recognised Nancy and wanted to pepper her with questions. She took the time to write down everything she could remember of the past few weeks, ever since Dwayne and Thanos first approached her.

“Some of the days were so dull when I write them down like this,” she said. “But I really was scared most of the time. Even when I was sleeping, I still had nightmares about what could go wrong.”

“I’m glad you haven’t encountered as many gruesome cases as I have, or you would’ve had a lot more nightmare fuel,” Fenton said.

“Like what?”

“No, I’m not adding to that. And of course it seems dull in retrospect. You had no idea what could happen at any time. Now that you’ve seen it through to the end, seen the treasure and all the culprits have been arrested – including Lori Girard, Corine Myers, and Nico Petit – you can remember the times when nothing bad happened to you. Aside from being imprisoned and probably starved.”

“It could’ve been worse,” Nancy said.

“Yes, and sometimes you’ll use that as a coping mechanism, whether you should or not,” he said. “Nancy, you need to see someone after this. The police can refer you to a therapist or a trauma counsellor. You were scared for your _life_.”

“And for Henrik and Professor Hotchkiss,” Nancy said. Henrik was dozing with his head resting against the window. “I’m glad he came with us. I didn’t get much of a chance to interact with Hotchkiss in Wisconsin, and she never remembers me when I call her on a case for help.”

“I’m sure she will now,” Fenton said, his eyes alight with amusement.

“She still kept getting our names wrong on the ship.” He chuckled. “But I felt closer to Henrik, and he refused to leave me alone. I hated being separated from him. He was the first person to hug me after the abduction, and we stayed together in my cell on the ship after Colin and Soren helped her escape. We were the only two allies after that… well, I mean, Shorty was nice to me. But we got on well at Shadow Ranch, until it turned out that he was behind all the sabotage and came after me to get Dirk Valentine’s treasure. He was nicer to me than the others on land.”

“I can’t guarantee that he’ll get a lighter sentence because he was nicer to you. But Soren and Colin both told us that they had no idea that you were on the ship until they saw you for themselves.”

“Yeah, judging by their reactions I’d got that. So it’s possible none of the others knew, either, except for Dwayne and probably Thanos.”

“As well as the entire Greek mafia,” he said.

“I just want Thanos to _stay_ in jail this time,” Nancy said. “Now I’m worried about all the other villains I’ve put behind bars, how many of them could still come for me. I’ve busted some pretty formidable culprits, including entire crime gangs.”

“Your encounter with Powers in the Bahamas should’ve told you that it would remain a possibility.”

“Maybe… maybe I should give up this sleuthing business,” she said, and sighed. “I know Dad would prefer that. And I’d definitely think twice about accepting any cases in future. No matter how much I’m needed… I _really_ need a break.” A tear slipped down her cheek, and Fenton squeezed her hand.

“You’ve got a lot stored up in you,” he said. “Definitely see a counsellor.”

“I will,” she whispered. “Now, tell me what’s been happening in River Heights.”

He grinned, and proceeded to tell Nancy every moment of the investigation, even showing her the group app George had set up for them, with every update.

“I saw the Stand With ND thing on the internet one day,” she said. “But this is…”

“You matter, Nancy. You have to see how much.”

They landed shortly after that, and Nancy shook Henrik awake. None of them had carry-on bags, and no luggage to collect, so they were able to go straight to the arrivals area. Nancy kept hold of Henrik and Fenton’s hands, and she didn’t let go until they entered arrivals.

“Nancy!”

She ran straight into her father’s arms, and they held onto each other for several minutes. Hannah soon joined the family hug. Bess and George were there, of course, and Nancy was swallowed up in their embrace as well, while Fenton introduced Henrik to the others. Nancy excitedly hugged Alexei when she saw him. The rest had decided to wait at the house, but Maya Nguyen had turned up to take pictures of the reunion. She was crying as well, but grinning through it, and Bess took a photo of Maya and Nancy sharing a hug.

There were many other natives of River Heights there, however, with banners and flowers and handshakes for Nancy. Henrik was grateful just to take it slowly, but he was also there whenever Nancy felt overwhelmed. She mostly smiled and thanked people for their support, and the police had to intervene and ensure she was whisked into a waiting car. Chief McGinnis welcomed her back, and they received a police escort to the Drew house.

“Who’s gonna be there?” Nancy asked her father. Carson had an arm over her shoulder, and kept pinching himself surreptitiously. Fenton noticed, of course.

“Uh, Togo,” he said. “And Dagny, George and Bess’s parents, Joe and Frank, and Logan. Bess and George insisted on coming to the airport with me and Hannah, and Alexei’s been such a huge help, co-ordinating everything when I just couldn’t… couldn’t concentrate on anything except you.” She leaned into his side. “I couldn’t have got through it without him. The neighbours have helped when they can. Wade and Savannah will be back soon. Is there anyone you want to visit you? We’ll try to keep people away as much as possible, but if there’s anyone you want on a visitors’ list, just so we know who to let in…”

“If Rentaro comes here before going back to Japan, I’d love to see him again,” Nancy said. “Anyone from the lab. They built the drone that distracted Dwayne when he tried to push me out of the cave. Colin and Soren are both welcome, and Professor Hotchkiss and Charleena Purcell, of course. I guess Charleena will have to come by to pick up Logan. Really, anyone who’s helped in some way. Dad… Shorty Thurmond was nicer to me than the others when we were travelling from San Diego to Colorado. I think… I think it started after I pointed out one night that they’d all gotten lighter sentences than they should’ve, considering the number of times they tried to hurt or kill me in the past. Maybe he realised he’d gotten off easy.”

“I’ll try to put in a word, but he’ll still face jail time,” Carson said. “Colin and Soren won’t, because they actively helped Hotchkiss escape, and apparently _repeatedly_ told you and Henrik to come along as well.”

“I had no way of knowing how soon they’d notice us missing, and if they came after all of us at once, we’d be sunk,” she said. “Literally.”

“I don’t like it, Nancy. Even though you’ve uncovered an ancient treasure which can now be returned to the right people, I still think it wasn’t worth all the pain and worry you’ve been through. That we’ve _all_ been through.”

“But I’m back now,” she said.

“Really, you _should_ look into becoming a librarian. Much safer.”

“You don’t watch enough TV,” Fenton said, beside Hannah in the front seat while she drove. “There’s a series all about librarians who protect ancient treasures in a New York library.”

“While I’m deciding what to do, I should at least learn self-defence,” Nancy said. “If I knew how to defend myself better… well, it can’t hurt.”

“Better to be prepared,” Henrik said, on the other side of Nancy. “This is unlikely to happen again, since Cibola doesn’t exist outside of legend, but someone could one day attempt another act of revenge, and you must be ready to fight back.”

“I hate fighting,” she complained.

“When it’s the only thing left to do, you _have_ to do it,” Carson said sharply. “I lost your mother, and I’ve nearly lost you too many times to count. I can’t let it happen for real, do you understand?”

Thinking over the fear she’d had for Hotchkiss and Henrik, and for others in previous cases, like Katie tied to that chair, Lukas locked in the dungeon, Jane trapped under a metal box… she did understand that fear.

“I’ll do everything I can to stay safe, Dad,” she said. “I promise.”

At the house, they all climbed out of the car, and Nancy was the first through the front door. Frank and Joe pounced on her first, and Togo had to settle for jumping at her back legs, whimpering for attention. Nancy kissed both boys on the cheeks, and then squatted down to cuddle Togo for a minute, skilfully avoiding his tongue. Once her dog was satisfied that she was home, she greeted the Faynes and Marvins, and then ran over to Dagny. She surprised the woman with a hug.

“I heard you offered to pay a large ransom for me,” Nancy said teasingly.

“Well… you know, I don’t have friends,” Dagny mumbled.

“Dagny?”

“Yeah, Drew?”

“Thanks.”

Dagny cleared her throat.

“We made food,” she said. “Cold lunch. It’s late in the day, I know, but we weren’t sure how much you’ve had to eat for days, so you shouldn’t eat too much just in case it makes you sick. And if you’ve been in the same clothes for three weeks…”

“I _have_ ,” Nancy said. “I’m gonna run upstairs and change. I showered at the hospital, but these clothes are making me itch.”

“The luggage you’d left at the airport was brought here,” Carson told Henrik. “You can get changed in my room.”

“We’ll eat in the living room,” Hannah said. “Is it still set up as command central?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Fayne said. “All the chairs are still in there.”

“Command central,” Nancy said, and she shook her head with a smile. “I’ve missed you guys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They missed you too, Nancy!
> 
> Okay, getting near the end of the story. I was going to end with Savannah and Wade’s wedding, but I have a better idea for an ending, more in keeping with the usual setup of the games. So we’ll see what happens in the next couple of chapters, won’t we?
> 
> Please review!


	29. Wedding Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The big day is close, but first Nancy wants to know what happened in Salem. And Savannah has something to tell Nancy.

The day after Nancy returned to River Heights, she cornered Frank and Joe – not hard to do when people kept hovering around her – and asked for an explanation of what had happened in Salem. They showed her pictures of the clues they’d found, even photographs of Deirdre’s notebook where she’d kept her own notes.

“So what happened when you returned to the crypt at night?” she asked.

“There were a bunch of urns set in the wall, kinda hard to see even with a flashlight,” Joe said. “But we’d looked for them in the daylight, and they matched the two scraps of paper. We used post-it notes from Deirdre’s desk to mark which ones we had to press and in which order. When it got to midnight, with Ned and Deirdre holding up lamps for us to see, Frank and I pressed each of the urns down. When it was done, a concealed drawer popped out. You should’ve heard Deirdre’s scream.”

“That’s not nice, Joe,” Nancy said. He cleared his throat, but couldn’t keep a straight face for long enough to fake embarrassment.

“It was a decoder for the documents we’d found in the lake,” Frank said. “The documents turned out to be Hathorne’s will.”

“Which Hathorne?”

“ _Judge_ Hathorne. He even wrote this really long confession hoping to ‘atone for his sins’ in condemning so many innocent people to die. Ann Putnam had confessed that it was all a prank, years after the fact, and that might’ve shamed him. He didn’t mention her in his confession, even though she married into the family; only that it pricked his conscience that he hadn’t set a better example for the people of Salem. He wanted to ensure the building was used as a monument to ending prejudice.”

“The language he used was more antiquated than that,” Joe said. “Judge Danforth arranged for expert decoders to confirm what we’d already worked out, not that it makes a difference since the building was going to the town anyway. But it’s gonna be less of a tacky tourist destination, and more meaningful now.”

“So who’s going to run the place?” Nancy asked.

“Mostly volunteers descended from the people involved with the trials, especially those who accused others of witchcraft, or were forced to,” Frank said. “But Mei Parris is mainly going to be in charge. She can’t do much work outside anyway, and they feel they owe it to her.”

“Why did her own sister accuse her of being a witch?” she said.

“Joe was convinced it was going to be jealousy—”

“A perfectly valid motive,” Joe interrupted. Frank rolled his eyes.

“But she really did do it for her sister,” Frank continued. “She knew about people fearing Mei because of her appearance, and wanted to expose the prejudice. She didn’t know the fire was going to happen that night, when she tried to dress like her sister to scare people close to Halloween, but she used the opportunity to make people think that Mei was a witch. She _wanted_ them to show their true colours so that Mei would move somewhere else where she wouldn’t be feared or hated. But she didn’t foresee the accusations of arson and attempted murder.”

“Right,” Nancy said. “So who wanted to burn down Hathorne House?”

“This… is where it gets kinda ugly.”

“It was Deirdre’s uncle!” Joe said gleefully. “It turns out that Deirdre’s mother’s side of the family is descended from an illegitimate half-sibling a hundred years ago, and he wants the property. Not the house; he wants to demolish it and build on the site. He wasn’t pleased to hear that Deirdre was trying to solve the arson attack. But after we revealed the connection, she admitted that they’d had a weird conversation.”

“A bit of digging and we found out about his financial difficulties, _and_ that his alibi for the night of the fire was false,” Frank said. “Deirdre had to break it to her parents after the arrest. It’s okay, Ned promised to look after her.”

“He’s that kind of guy,” Nancy said. “It sounds like a fun case. Much more fun than what I was doing. Although I don’t mind searching for treasure as long as I’m not being held at gunpoint while doing it.”

 

Savannah took Nancy shopping for an appropriate bridesmaid dress. Jessalyn was on her way to River Heights with Harper and Colton, since Wade didn’t care where they married, and Savannah just wanted to do it soon. Nancy didn’t want to travel again for awhile, so River Heights it was.

“There was something strange,” Savannah said as they browsed the racks. She’d already found a wedding dress to hire, but was looking for matching shoes. “I didn’t like to mention it at the time, `cause you were already strung out enough.”

“What is it?” Nancy asked. She pulled a pretty green dress off the rack, and held it against her body. “What do you think?”

“Try it on,” Savannah said. “But before you do… when Powers pushed you, and you nearly fell outta the cave, I saw something.”

“Uh-huh?” Nancy glanced at Savannah. “Wait. Something… or _someone_?”

“Look, there was no one else in there with you. You were hanging onto the wall, and Powers was being confronted by the drone. It wasn’t a shadow. Shadows don’t feel scared and angry. Shadows don’t cause someone to fall.”

“Out of the cave, not into it like he should’ve done.” Nancy clutched the dress close, and took a few slow breaths. “I thought there was something weird. I even wondered whether it was the… the spirit of El Toro protecting the treasure, but that’s ridiculous. He died in the Bahamas. My mom died in _Scotland_.”

“Our loved ones stay with us, Nancy.” Savannah touched her shoulder. “Why don’t you go try that dress on, so I can see how pretty you look in it?”

“Okay,” she said quietly, and she retreated to the dressing room. Savannah grabbed a random pair of white heels and sat down to try them on for something to do. She figured Nancy would need a minute.

Finally Nancy emerged in the green dress, tugging at the straps. Savannah covered her mouth, overcome with an emotion that wasn’t entirely hers.

“Oh, I hope you invite me to your weddin’ when you get married someday, `cause that’s the only time you’d ever look more beautiful than you do right now.”

“I promise, if I get married, you’ll be invited,” Nancy said. “It really looks okay?”

“See yourself in the mirror, honey, and you’ll see.”

The dress was a light emerald colour, with straps instead of sleeves, a sweetheart neckline, and the hem fell below the knees. There were shoes nearby which would go perfectly with it, and a shawl as well. Savannah grabbed one of them, and wrapped it around Nancy’s sleeves.

“You’ll need this,” she said. “It’s gettin’ cooler outside.”

“It’ll be winter in a couple of weeks,” Nancy said.

“If you think you won’t be warm enough, we can look for somethin’ else.”

“No, no, this is perfect. And the wedding and reception will be indoors.”

“Okay.” Savannah removed the shawl, and put it aside. “I say we get it.”

 

When they returned to the house, Nancy dropped her bags.

“Soren!” She ran forward, and laughed as he lifted her up and swung her around.

“You have _no_ idea how good it is to see you,” he said.

“I didn’t know you were arriving today!”

“We wanted to surprise you,” he said. “Hotchkiss wanted to stay in Washington for awhile, and Charleena Purcell’s staying there with her. But Colin and I hopped on a plane to come over here as soon as the police cleared us to travel.”

“Hello, Nancy,” Colin said. He seemed surprised when she hugged him as well, and patted her on the back. “Of course we were relieved to hear that you and van der Hune were alright, but as Soren said, it’s much better to see it for ourselves.”

“Thank you so much for getting Hotchkiss out of there,” she said. “It was one less person for me to worry about. And the two of you, for that matter.”

“If we hadn’t done it, we’d probably be facing prison sentences again,” Soren said.

“From what I heard, you left messages about the ship’s location for Elisabet and Magnus to find,” Nancy reminded him. “You were doing something.”

“I’d have called someone if I could, but my phone was out of battery,” Colin said.

“But you told them to feed us more, I’m sure it was you.”

“Well… I mean, it _was_ , but—”

“No. You were both great, and I wouldn’t have stood for it if they’d tried to throw you in jail.”

They’d already heard a lot about what happened in Colorado, from the news and from the others, but they wanted to hear all about it from Nancy. Henrik was out with Fenton and Wade looking for suits to rent for the wedding, so Nancy could only tell her side of the story. She did the best she could.

“But I want to know what you’re doing next,” she said, after she’d finished. “Are you going back to Iceland, Soren? I hope you’ll both be here for the wedding, but I mean after that. And are you going back to England or Italy, Colin?”

“I’ll be going wherever I’m told to go,” Colin said. “By the people I work for. Oh, and Zoe and Alec are expected here tomorrow.”

“Great! I can’t wait to see them. What about you, Soren? What’re your plans?”

“I have no idea,” Soren said, shrugging. “I took the job because it was offering enough money to be able to move out of Skipbrot and start afresh somewhere else, but I guess they were expecting a big payout from the treasure, because I only got a weekly amount on the ship while we were there, cash in hand. Definitely not enough to move anywhere. I can pay my way back to Iceland, but that’s it. I’ll have to stay there for the future. Or I use the money I earned, and get someone to send my things so I can stay in America for awhile. I don’t have any friends here _or_ there.”

“You’ve got us,” Nancy said. “And the media pay well for interviews, so that should help as well.”

“You’re devious, Nancy,” he said, eyes twinkling in delight. “I like this side of you.”

“Just practical.” But she winked.

 

Jessalyn was also in green, and Harper had insisted on a suit, since she was the best woman. Since Savannah’s family couldn’t make it, Colton volunteered to walk Savannah down the aisle. Maya had arranged for a professional photographer of her acquaintance to give them a discount, and other people in town were so determined to help out that the catering and flowers were half price, the reception venue was thirty percent off, and the church hire was free. It reminded Nancy of the surge of generosity after her name had been cleared. But she forced those memories away.

Wade wouldn’t stop grinning stupidly whenever he looked at Savannah, which was all the time. From the minute she started walking down the aisle he couldn’t take his eyes off her, and Nancy was glad she’d thought to tuck a handful of tissues into her dress, because both she and Jessalyn, the maid-of-honour, needed them by the end.

They used the new town hall, only recently opened, for the reception. Alexei had done a great job designing the building which had gone up where old town hall had once stood. It wasn’t an exact recreation of the old building, but it had the same kind of style, and the big meeting room was the perfect size for a wedding reception. They all found their seats around the walls, leaving the middle of the floor open for the dancing. Savannah and Wade had rejected the idea of a set menu; apparently Harper had very strong opinions about forcing people to eat things they wouldn’t necessarily like. Something to do with the ‘special boarding school’ she’d been sent to. Nancy could understand that.

“I hope I’ll be happy like that one day,” Nancy murmured to Jessalyn.

“Don’t feel you have to rush into it,” Jessalyn replied. “Remember how Mom tried to force me to marry Colton? I’m glad we didn’t. He’s happier with the girl he loves, and I’m free to run the business. Maybe one day I’ll find someone, and maybe I won’t. But I’m never hurryin’ into anything like that again.”

“I used to think Ned and I would be together forever,” she said. “But it wasn’t to be.”

“An’ that’s okay. Marriage isn’t for everyone.”

“But that was before I decided to give up solving mysteries,” Nancy said. Jessalyn frowned for a moment.

“Yeah, I heard you’d decided that,” she said. “I think it’d be a shame to waste your talent, but it’s your life. There are plenty of people with talents they don’t want, who feel like they have to do what others expect of them just because they _can_. But if you’re worried about safety, maybe you could do some kind of online consulting service. Like Sherlock Holmes, without having to go anywhere. I’m sure you have to call people all the time when you’re on a case.”

“Usually, yeah. That’s a pretty good idea.”

“Thanks,” Jessalyn said, and she sipped some champagne. “Oh, Harper’s about to do her speech. Prepare yourself. She practised on me before.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

 

Nancy was happy to remove her shoes when she got home, perched on the edge of her bed. She massaged the bottom of her feet, digging her thumbs in hard, and hoped she wouldn’t have blisters by tomorrow. She’d had a few burst from climbing over the rocky ground in the mountain pass in Colorado.

She’d been nearly danced off her feet after the meal, and before the cutting of the cake. She danced with her father first, of course, and then with Colton, Jessalyn, and Harper. She also danced with Wade and Savannah, before then being passed between everyone present who’d helped with the investigation. Zoe didn’t dance, but Alec did, and so did Alexei, Colin, Soren, Dagny, Frank, Joe, Bess, and George.

Needless to say, Nancy needed a break. The cake revived her enough for the ride home, but she wouldn’t even attempt a wash. She had to get into her pyjamas, and then she was going to _sleep_. For at least twelve hours.

But Savannah and Wade had looked perfect together. They were so happy with each other, having already come through difficult times in the past. Nancy still couldn’t believe that they were so positive that she’d be rescued that they swore not to get married until she was back. They trusted in that, and they trusted each other. That was important in a relationship. Nancy realised that now, and hoped she could have that someday.

No, a relationship wasn’t essential to a life, but if she wasn’t going to be gallivanting around the world helping people all the time, it’d be nice to have someone like that to keep her grounded at home. She’d treat them better than she had Ned.

She rolled out of bed long enough to change, hang up her dress, and remove her makeup. Then she climbed under the covers, yawning, and rolled onto her side.

“Thanks, Mom,” she mumbled. “For pushing Dwayne. If that really was you.”

Maybe, for once, Nancy could allow herself to believe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter to go. Then I’ll start writing the shipping chapters. I’ve had phoenix_173’s vote, and I’ll be writing whatever strikes my fancy. Tickles my plot bunny, if you will. So let me know if you have any ships which I haven’t mentioned in previous author notes.
> 
> Please review!


	30. Letters For ND

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 18 letters to Nancy after her safe return to River Heights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because it’s about time someone writes to Nancy!

_Dear Nancy,_

_We’re so glad you were able to be there for the wedding. You got us back together and reunited the Thornton family, so you would’ve been invited anyway. Getting to celebrate with old_ and _new friends was just the icing on the wedding cake._

_We plan to send you postcards from the honeymoon. We’ve gotten a taste for road trips now. I don’t know where we’re headed for first, so be prepared to be just as surprised as us._

_Love,_

_Savannah (and Wade)._

_Dear Nancy,_

_I’ve just left solitary again, otherwise I would’ve written before this. I’m happy to know you’re safe now. I heard there’s some dispute over whether Thanos and the others will be extradited from America. The guards are saying that I could be moved to another jail if he_ is _sent here._

_I swear, if I’d heard anything about the plans, I would’ve told someone. I’d never want you to get hurt. But they know I care about you._

_Sincerely,_

_Grigor Karakinos._

_Nancy,_

_I know we’re not friends or anything, and I’m sure those two guys who helped me out have told you a bunch of stuff that just isn’t true, or they should’ve shut their mouths about. But that’s not what I’m writing to tell you._

_Look, Ned and I have been dating for a few months, but he always chickens out of telling you because he’s worried it’ll hurt your feelings or something. But you’re a big girl. You can handle it._

_Oh, and sorry that I was kind of part of the reason you got abducted._

_Deirdre._

_Dear Nancy,_

_Anja did know you were going to be attacked. She refused to help so that she can get at you on her own one day. The police here have promised to alert me if she escapes or is paroled before her release date, and I will tell you._

_I will be visiting Canada again in two months. Could I see you then? I would like your opinion on my new game._

_Auf Wiedersehen,_

_Karl._

_Dear Nancy,_

_We are pushing for Nico Petit to be returned to Rome for his trial. We fear that his attempted act of revenge may inspire Helena Berg to do the same thing. If she tries anything, or makes any attempt at outside communication, we will alert you at once._

_Also, let us know if you plan to return to Italy. We will arrange an escort for you._

_Ciao._

_Sophia Leporace._

_Dear Drew,_

_Like I said, I don’t do goodbyes. I’m off on another hunt. I won’t bother you with the details; I’m sure you’ve had enough of treasure for now. But if ever you’re interested again, let Moira know, and she’ll pass it on to me._

_See ya._

_Dagny._

_Dear Nancy,_

_They are going to mass produce the drone! I am staying at the lab to finish testing, but there are governments all over the world who want the design. Gray is organising the paperwork for me. Then I can choose where to go. A company in Tokyo will produce them for the National Police Agency. I could go there. Miwako has asked when I will be coming home. I am hoping it means something. She said she was proud of me for helping you. Do you think this is a good sign?_

_The others have told me to say hello to you for them. So… hello from them._

_Rentaro._

_Dear Nancy,_

_I’ve booked a ticket to the US so I can visit you. I’m sure you’ve had more than enough visitors lately, but I’m desperate to see for myself that you’re alright. I’ve got a 30-day cancellation on the tickets, so call me if a visit will be inconvenient or too much for you._

_Love,_

_Moira._

_Dear Nancy,_

_I would’ve written after I got in last night but Gunnar insisted on throwing a party for me at the Missti Skip pretty much as soon as I stepped off the plane. I’m not used to the people here being nice to me. I’m waiting for things to go back to normal. They keep visiting and calling me, saying they’re proud to count me as one of their own. I guess it’s a start. Thank you for telling me to give them a second chance._

_If you come to Iceland again, you have a place to stay._

_Regards,_

_Soren._

_Hi, Nancy._

_Our visitors have_ finally _left. We loved being able to help you, but who knew two old ladies could be so demanding? I sure hope we don’t end up like that._

_Holt enclosed this switch blade knife for you, so you can defend yourself. It’s the one Hilda Swenson gave him. I said he should get you something without ‘one bum’ written on it, but he ignored my advice. Sorry._

_Love,_

_Katie._

_Dear Nancy,_

_They’re letting me write to you, so I just wanted to say thanks. You’re the reason I’m the only one who’s gonna be offered parole. When I’m out maybe I’ll do a web series on cooking, like you suggested. ‘Spicing Up Prison Food’. Maybe that’ll be the title of my memoirs?_

_Best wishes,_

_Shorty Thurmond._

_Nancy,_

_I thought I should warn you that WWB is talking about making a made-for-TV movie about what happened to you. No matter what they offer to pay you,_ don’t do it _. It’ll end up being tacky, and you’d have to be desperate for money to agree. And I think it’s way too soon for you. Plus, Rick_ really _doesn’t want to play Dwayne._

_Love,_

_Mattie._

_Dear Nancy,_

_I decided to stick around for awhile, and make sure all the artefacts were removed carefully and respectfully. Henrik got here yesterday, and he said you’d probably want some print photos of them, so here you are. Prof. Hotchkiss is on her way so she can start writing her book about the princess._

_Hope you like the pictures._

_Tino Balducci._

_Dear Nancy,_

_My niece was sorry she didn’t get to meet you, but she said that if ever you visit Salem, you’re welcome to stay with her._

_Don’t forget that you have a lifetime pass to Captain’s Cove. Please come visit us anytime. Paula Santos hired extra security staff since your visit, so Harlan can escort you around the park himself while you’re here._

_I look forward to seeing you again._

_Sincerely,_

_Ingrid Corey._

_My dear Nancy,_

_I do hope you will be attending my book launch, although I will understand perfectly if you are not up to travelling yet. I must say, it is refreshing to find a young person who still writes letters. If you do attend the launch, I warn you that PG Krolmeister will be there. He wishes to meet you someday. He asked me to pass on his thanks for the charming letter you wrote, thanking him for starting that hash-tag. I shall never understand those things, but if the support of so many gave you strength in your darkest hours, and continues to, then I suppose it was worth it._

_Your friend,_

_Prudence Rutherford._

_Dear Nancy,_

_Once again you have helped royalty of the past with your remarkable skills in finding that which has been hidden for centuries. And you came through it safely, which is just as important._

_Have you seen Sonny? His last message said that he would be at the Four Corners Monument for SPIED business, but I’m sure that wasn’t his only reason for being in the area. If he doesn’t show up soon, I shall send you the drawings he left behind._

_Ah, I have just had a message from him. He is on his way to Wales, although he does not give a reason why. I shall send you the drawings, and if you hear of anything strange happening in Wales, please let me know._

_Sincerely,_

_Jamila._

_Dear Nancy,_

_I was so relieved when Mom called with the news that you’d been rescued, and you were already on your way back to River Heights. I’ve been planning to visit sometime, maybe with Hugo. Would it be alright if Jane came along, too? She might stay with her mother instead, but it depends on whether or not her mom’s touring at the time._

_I wanted to ask, instead of just showing up, in case you saw Jane and wondered whether… well, you know. She doesn’t resent you, in any way, and she’s too young to pull off a kidnapping. But you could still be jumpy for awhile. I know I was after being made to think I was turning into a werewolf. Family therapy was awkward at first, but it really helps to talk to someone. I hope you are._

_Love,_

_Linda._

_Dear Ms. Drew,_

_Thank you for your expression of interest in our correspondence courses!_

_To get you started, we’ve sent an enrolment pack and the booklet we have outlining each of the courses on offer. The enrolment dates are listed with each course. Some start mid-year, and some start every month._

_We hope you find something of interest. We’ve enclosed a flyer for our upcoming careers fair in a few months’ time. Our admissions office is open Monday to Friday, or you can enrol online or contact us by email._

_Sincerely,_

_Riverside Heights Technical College._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it. The fic is done, and I can move on to writing the possible endings where people end up together. I’m probably going to write Alexei/Carson, because it was damn near writing itself in the narrative (still no idea how that happened), phoenix_173 has asked for Frank/Nancy, and I know at least one other reader had requested Nancy/Sonny.
> 
> Please review! What courses do you think Nancy is interested in?

**Author's Note:**

> So my plan is to set up the story in such a way that there are a number of potential ‘suitors’ from past games who Nancy might end up with. There’ll be HEAPS of cameo appearances and references, although not much about MID, seeing as how we have no idea whether the game will even be released. I’m basing the mentions of it on what we know of the game, which… isn’t much, and I’m not planning to predict a villain for it or anything.
> 
> Anyway, as I get closer to the end of the story I’ll let you know which characters Nancy may end up with, and write different endings for them. If, at that time, you wish to make any requests, please make them then. I need to sort out the other, more important parts of this story before I think about relationships.
> 
> I’ve done a hell of a lot of research for this fic, so I hope it’s worth it. Please review, to make it all worthwhile. Else there’s no point in wasting my time.


End file.
